


coruscating shadows

by wrennette



Series: sithnip [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Obi-Wan's Sith collection, Xanatos and Bruck are still Jedi, lots of affectionate pet names because you know that's how these dudes roll, the author attempts to be humourous, the author attempts to write sass, this entire lineage is just attitude and sass, who let me write this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-10-20 11:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10662093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: At Geonosis, Obi-Wan listens a little better to his grandmaster, and makes a decision that sets him forward on a different path.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I very unwisely had [an idea regarding the fact that Obi-Wan seems to have inherited Qui-Gon Jinn's tendency to pick up strays, but all of his are Sith.](https://wrennette.tumblr.com/post/159095998342/okay-but-ive-been-watching-clone-wars-and-its) This may or may not be continued depending how inspiration strikes.

Pain was not unexpected in this situation. Obi-Wan had been held captive before, had been tortured. Many times others had tried to break his indomitable will, his unyielding faith in the light side of the Force. Torture by the Sith who had once been his Master’s Master would not break him, of that Obi-Wan was certain. If anything, he pitied the fall of Master Dooku, who his own Master Qui-Gon Jinn had so respected. 

Distancing himself, Obi-Wan opened himself to the Force. Dooku was shadowed with evil, but Obi-Wan was a little surprised how much light there still was in the man, and how much of his darkness was based in pain. Obi-Wan’s pity shifted slightly, but did not lessen. Dooku had become a monster, but Obi-Wan couldn’t bring himself to hate the man. Partly it was that hate simply wasn’t Obi-Wan’s way. Partly it was that he could understand the deep pain that filled Dooku, and was fairly certain he knew the source of that pain. It hadn’t been long after the loss of Qui-Gon after all, that Dooku had left the Order. 

Submersed in the Force, Obi-Wan let himself be flooded with the warm harmony of the light. Pain was but a flickering concern, transient in his fathomless existence. Surrounded so completely in the infinite grace of the Force, Obi-Wan could sense Dooku’s presence like a thundercloud, light shrouded in shadow. Obi-Wan’s innate ability to forgive swelled. It was not only unlike Jedi to hold a grudge, it was unlike Obi-Wan, and even though he could feel his body was wounded during his capture, he forgave Dooku for every injury. 

Obi-Wan moaned softly, keeping hold of the Force but opening himself to the pain of consciousness as well. Opening his eyes slightly, he watched Dooku pace and rant, listened to his diatribes against the Order, the Senate, and the Republic itself. The Force, rather to Obi-Wan’s surprise, resounded with the sincerity of Dooku’s words. 

“Grandmaster,” Obi-Wan managed to murmur, and Dooku stopped short, staring at the Jedi hanging limp in the suppression field. Dark eyes widened as Dooku perceived the undimmed light of his captive, but also the young Jedi’s willingness to listen, to _believe_. An insidious voice that had long whispered at the back of his mind grew quieter, and Dooku stepped back, the aggressive set of his broad shoulders softening.

“Please, I will listen, but you must understand that this - the path you appear to be set on, it is not the answer,” Obi-Wan plead. Dooku hesitated, but in a sharp move, he disabled the field. Obi-Wan tumbled to the floor, and remained kneeling in front of the former Jedi. “Please grandmaster,” Obi-Wan murmured, and Dooku reached out, his hand trembling. His fingers sank into his grand-padawan’s thick ginger hair, and blue eyes raised, looking up at Dooku pleadingly. He hadn’t received such a look since Qui-Gon was young, and it broke something in the ex Jedi.

Dooku crashed to his knees, sweeping Obi-Wan into a rough embrace. Obi-Wan tensed at first, unused to casual physical contact. But he could feel Dooku trembling, and he embraced the older man in turn, gently stroking Dooku’s swept back hair and rubbing his broad, strong chest. The Force roiled around them, and Obi-Wan let that ineffable energy fill him. He reached out, enveloping Dooku in his Force presence, gently teasing away the shadows and pain that clung to his grandmaster. 

“You are no Sith, Master of my Master,” Obi-Wan murmured. “Tempted perhaps, but I cannot believe that the incomparable negotiator, the unmatched swordsman that trained Qui-Gon Jinn, would Turn, would Fall. Slip perhaps, but not Fall.” Dooku nearly sobbed at that, feeling the Presence of the Sith in his mind easing. He sank into Obi-Wan, clinging to the younger Jedi. “I have you darling,” Obi-Wan soothed. “I have you.”

“My sweet boy,” Dooku murmured, pressing soft kisses into Obi-Wan’s hair. Gently now he encouraged Obi-Wan closer, clinging to the warm strength of his grand-padawan. Obi-Wan continued to murmur sweet nonsense, and Dooku accepted, letting Obi-Wan draw away the pain that had festered in his heart these last ten years and more. “Forgive me,” Dooku asked quietly, and Obi-Wan chuffed softly. 

“There is nothing to forgive dear heart. We never should have let you deal with so much alone,” Obi-Wan said warmly, and leaned up into the larger man’s embrace, letting a kiss to one bristled cheek linger. “We will always welcome you home.” _Home_ , Dooku sighed, and buried his face in Obi-Wan’s strong shoulder. 

“Thank you,” Dooku breathed, and slowly stood, bearing Obi-Wan up with him. “Thank you sweet boy. I will - I will fix this, I promise.”

“I know darling,” Obi-Wan murmured, his face warm with regard. “Oh dear one, I wish we had met sooner,” he said gently, and when Dooku pressed a kiss to his mouth, Obi-Wan kissed back softly. They traded sweet kisses like air, gentle presses of the lips, nothing more, just soft, affectionate reassurances, but it is an intimacy Obi-Wan had shared with very few, and he all but wallowed in this affection from his Grandmaster. Finally Dooku shifted their embrace, resting his head once more on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. 

“Bind my hands sweet boy, I surrender,” Dooku said quietly, and Obi-Wan shook his head, reaching up to stroke his Grandmaster’s soft white hair. 

“No love, I trust you to come quietly. Your ship?”

“Nearby, come.”

They walked out arm in arm, and when Dooku staggered, Obi-Wan, despite being the one more physically injured, gently wrapped an arm around the older man’s waist and bore up under his broad shoulder. Dooku listed into the offered support, then moaned as he felt the Force buoying them both, pure Light washing into him from Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan simply channeled, accepting the grace of the Force and using it to assist them to Dooku’s sleek Solar Sailor. 

Obi-Wan gently urged Dooku into the bed in the stateroom, carefully removing his cloak and boots and belt before tucking him in, kissing him softly and murmuring reassurances against his soft white hair. Dooku laid down willingly, and only resisted when he understood that Obi-Wan would not remain with him. 

“Shh, shhh, easy, I’ll only be from you long enough to get us underway,” Obi-Wan promised. “Would it be easier if I bound myself to you dear one?” 

“Please,” Dooku murmured quietly, and Obi-Wan reached out, opening his mind to his Grandmaster. It was dangerous, unwise in the extreme to make himself so vulnerable to a self proclaimed Sith Lord. It was also the right thing to do. He lowered his shields and reached out, offering himself wholly. Dooku moaned softly as he was again enveloped and embraced in that warmth, that beautiful light. He grabbed hold, and Obi-Wan smiled as he tied them together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan brings Dooku home to the temple and internally sasses the whole damn Council.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant this to be a one shot to get the idea out of my brain but then my brain wouldn't shut up. Will be at least 3 chapters, I don't know beyond that because I don't really plan out my writing.
> 
> Drastic change in tone between chapters one and two, also, because that's enough compassion, if Obi-Wan's the main character you'll now suffer through my attempts at writing sass.

The return to the Temple was - awkward. Obi-Wan was unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately given the circumstances, an expert at awkward situations. Awaiting him and Dooku on the landing platform were the two Grandmasters of the High Council, the _entire_ Council of Reconciliation, a dozen Shadows, and approximately half the Sentinels in the Temple guard. With them were Xanatos and Bruck, also known as Obi-Wan’s pet Darksiders.

It really wasn’t Obi-Wan’s fault though. Well. It was. But he didn’t do it on purpose. How could Obi-Wan have known he’d actually be able to talk Bruck down from the top of that waterfall when he was barely a Padawan himself? How could Obi-Wan have known that Bruck would thereafter latch himself onto Obi-Wan like a particularly mouthy barnacle who did his level best to emulate Obi-Wan’s unerring moral compass, but often fell short? How could Obi-Wan have known that Xanatos would come looking for his sort-of apprentice and upon finding Obi-Wan and Bruck together, declare them too adorable to separate, and stay on in the Temple himself after some negotiations?

 _(Well, more hostage taking than actual negotiations, but it had all worked out. And Obi-Wan had not been adorable, he insisted. He had been nearly 14 and very grown up, thank you very much. Usually when he got huffy about that, Xanatos only teased Obi-Wan more, scrubbing his head until his cropped hair floofed out and he looked like a particularly grumpy lothcat that had stepped on a power coupling. Xanatos had been Knighted and given probation, then promptly taken Bruck as his Padawan. Which meant twice as much probation. And also meant both of them lurked around Obi-Wan while they were all in Temple until Obi-Wan almost couldn’t imagine life without a pair of voices at one ear that he mentally called_ Bad Idea _and_ Worse Idea _)_

It wasn’t like Obi-Wan went looking for trouble. As a Padawan he had blamed his many adventures on his rather reckless Master, since Qui-Gon had always advocated living in the moment, and very rarely concerned himself with consequences. Consequences that all too often, blew up in Obi-Wan’s face. But Qui-Gon Jinn was ten years gone, his absence a wound that still pained Obi-Wan when Obi-Wan allowed himself to think about it. Obi-Wan sighed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes as he took in the cocky, anticipatory stances of Xanatos and Bruck. Consequences sucked.

Quinlan Vos stood with the Shadows, grinning almost as obnoxiously as Bruck. He was almost as irritating as Bruck overall in truth, just had a bit more of a leg to stand on when teasing Obi-Wan, since Quin had never _actually_ touched the Dark side himself, only flirted with it heavily. Obi-Wan had a feeling he’d be hearing about this for approximately the rest of his life. The only uncertainty came from the fact that if he was lucky, Quin might die before him. Unfortunately, the Kiffar had already proven himself rather difficult to kill, having survived much of the Stark Hyperspace Conflict separated from his Master.

“Brought my wayward Padawan home you have, hmmmm Master Kenobi?” Yoda opened with, and Obi-Wan nearly groaned aloud. 

“Yes Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan said with an almost convincing amount of respect in his tone, managing not to roll his eyes. He adored his great-grandmaster, he really did, but the troll could be as obnoxious as Bruck and Xanatos together when he was in the mood. “I hope my transmission reached you in good time, and didn’t cause any undue concern?” he asked politely.

“Reached us your transmission did,” Yoda agreed with a degree of gravity that indicated the situation was either worse than Obi-Wan anticipated or far better. It was hard to tell at times when Yoda was joking.

“Unfortunately your Padawan and his charge have gone missing,” Mace Windu said after a pause. The level of censure that man could inject into a single sentence was an enviable skill, Obi-Wan thought. Obi-Wan did roll his eyes then, because of course. Of course Anakin couldn’t for once do as he was told. 

“They’ve made no contact?” Obi-Wan asked, but his long suffering tone indicated that he knew as they all did that there had been no communication. Mace simply shook his head. Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing his beard to keep from simply hiding his face in his hands. This was punishment, he was certain of it. The Force was punishing him for something, if he could only figure out _what_. First nearly going unchosen, then the mess of his early apprenticeship and picking up Bruck and Xanatos as his shadows. He was never going to escape this. Obi-Wan hid a sigh in his palm, and let it go. He’d accepted the mess after Bruck surrendered and Xanatos returned, this would be no different.

_(It would be different. Neither Bruck nor Xanatos had been fully Sith. Xanatos could at worst be called Fallen, or Darksider, but he had mostly just been an angry and arrogant Padawan, pulled in too many directions. Bruck had just been a confused and angry Initiate not too unlike Obi-Wan himself, desperate to be chosen, to be wanted. Dooku though - Dooku had Fallen, had left the Order, had taken up arms against the Republic. Dooku could claim the title Sith easily, and here he walked at Obi-Wan’s shoulder in the place where his Padawan should have stood, but his Padawan was off - somewhere. His Padawan was missing.)_

_Lost a Padawan, Master Kenobi has, how embarrassing_ , Obi-Wan’s mind supplied in Yoda’s voice. He fought down a giggle. Hysterics were really not going to help anything. At least Senator Amidala was presumably with Anakin, although how _that_ helped was rather unclear. She did tend to engage her brain with some frequency though, so perhaps there was hope, so long as Anakin didn’t get the bit between his teeth and run wild.

“No contact,” Mace said, every ounce of his displeasure clear in his stern voice and the line of his drawn down brow, the curl of his arms across his chest and set of his broad shoulders. Oh, they were in such trouble. Obi-Wan merely tilted his head slightly and cocked his own brow. He’d argued against this division of labour. His Padawan might be impressive, but Anakin was only 19 and given to recklessness. Obi-Wan was well aware what his own decision making was like at that age. If it hadn’t been for his Master, he’d have run off with Satine Kryze to be a kept man on Mandalore. Padme Amidala was a test he was fairly certain his Padawan could not pass.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting my report then,” Obi-Wan said, his tone just a hair short of glib. Mace’s scowl darkened, and Obi-Wan smiled innocently. At his shoulder, Dooku positively _radiated_ that same feeling Obi-Wan knew so well from his Master’s sessions before the Council, that feeling that would appear on Qui-Gon’s face as pure but utterly unbelievable innocence as he said things like _it was the will of the Force, Masters_ or _the Force guided me Masters_ , or _they just followed us home Masters, and is not compassion the Jedi way?_ His Lineage had a long history, Obi-Wan was sure, of giving Masters of the Order ulcers and agita, and in that perhaps Anakin was utterly typical.

“Council Chambers, now,” Mace grit out. Obi-Wan wisely refrained from commenting on the sheer rage emanating from the Korun. The training droids would likely be set to eleven and getting a thorough workout by the end of the day. Well, Obi-Wan would probably get thoroughly worked out as well. There was a damn good reason Obi-Wan had achieved Mastery of Soresu so quickly, and its name was _Mace Windu has unresolved anger issues he likes to blame on Obi-Wan’s unfortunate tendency to collect Darksiders like he’s building his own personal army_.

Dooku followed Obi-Wan silently up to the Council chamber, the Shadows and Sentinels trailing behind. Nearly every Jedi they passed stopped and stared after them, all pretense of distance and disaffection discarded at the sight of Count Dooku walking, head high, through the Temple. By the time they actually reached the Council’s chamber, it was likely the entire Order on Coruscant knew that Master Dooku had returned to the Temple with Master Kenobi.

“You’re lucky I like you so much Obi-Wan,” Mace groused, then sat heavily, narrowing his eyes in expectation. Obi-Wan widened his own eyes in _who, me?_ false innocence in protest, and Mace snorted audibly.

“Know this look we do,” Yoda reminded Obi-Wan, shaking his stick at his great-grandpadawan futilely. “Taught this look I did to all my Lineage.” Obi-Wan widened his eyes a hair more, and all but pouted. 

“But he followed me home Masters, it was the will of the Force, and is compassion not the Jedi way?” Obi-Wan asked with a great deal of gravity, and Depa snorted, then descended into hysterics, hiccoughing into her arms as she folded herself over in much needed amusement. It was as much a release of tension as anything in truth; while Obi-Wan tended to find himself in sticky situations, he was rather well liked in the Temple despite his escapades. If anything, the other Masters were just glad that the extremes of luck - both good and bad - seemed attached to Obi-Wan, rather than any of them. 

“Dear one?” Dooku asked, and Obi-Wan half turned with a shrug. 

“Like they’ve all but spelled out, and I’m sure you’re well aware, Darksiders tend to - converge on my general location. The best analog I’ve heard is that I tend to give off enough light that I attract shadows,” Obi-Wan explained. “I’m rather more concerned with what you told me Grandmaster. I felt the truth in your words, and they discomfit me greatly.” Dooku hummed quietly, reaching up to stroke his silver beard. 

“Why don’t you start at the beginning Obi-Wan,” Mace urged, and it was clear the Korun was tired, a mild frown wrinkling his forehead.

“If you heard the transmission unedited, then I’m sure you heard my position was overrun by droids,” Obi-Wan began, obliging the Master of the Order. He explained about coming too in captivity, assuming he would be tortured. He glossed slightly over the feel of Dooku in the Force, the lightning storm sensation that prickled his skin even as they stood in front of the Council. If they couldn’t feel the Light left in Dooku themselves, nothing he could say would convince them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dooku and Obi-Wan go before the Jedi High Council. This entire lineage is just attitude and sass, and one of these days Obi-Wan is going to roll his eyes so hard they tumble right out of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a Monday pick me up. Also I was a couple glasses of wine in when I posted this so let me know if I missed any obvious typos etc.
> 
> My Mace/Obi feelings fell into this but I haven't decided yet where that relationship is headed.

Obi-Wan’s sincerity and belief carried in his tone as he gave his report on what he’d found on Kamino and Geonosis, every word carefully chosen to convey the meaning he wished to impart. A Jedi might not lie, but Obi-Wan’s many missions brokering treaties and negotiating truces were more than proof enough that a Jedi could shape the truth as needed. Such was not required in this situation though; rather, they needed to shed more light where Dooku had only cast Dark aspersions. When Obi-Wan had finished his precise summation, the weight of the Council’s attention shifted, fixing on the Fallen Jedi at Obi-Wan’s shoulder. 

“Padawan,” Yoda said simply, and the depth of disappointment he could wrap around that single word was staggering. The weight of it was almost unbearable to witness for all of them; their entire lives the gathered Masters had looked to Master Yoda for guidance. For Dooku, on whom that disappointment was trained, it was a wounding blow. Dooku went gracelessly to his knees, and bowed, pressing his forehead to the floor in supplication. Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat, and it felt like the universe stilled around them, the Force and time itself waiting in anticipation. “Teases, young Kenobi does, but truth, he speaks,” Yoda said grimly. “Compassion, the Jedi way is.” The heavenly orbs continued in their paths, and Obi-Wan could once again breathe. 

“Yes Master,” Dooku agreed quietly, his eyes tearing as he hopefully glanced up. 

“Much you have to tell us, hmmm?” Yoda prodded, and Dooku nodded, swallowing thickly as he settled into a kneeling position. 

“Masters, there is no denying I have Fallen,” Dooku said gravely, his low tones thick with restrained emotion. “I have long questioned the way in which this Order conducts itself, and the business it is given by the Senate. It is no secret that I was deeply troubled by my part in the massacre at Galidraan, and the echos of that day haunt me yet. The Masters of the Council more than most have been subject to my opinions on these matters. I left this Temple believing I was well served in doing so, believing that the corruption of the Senate and the Republic were beyond amelioration within the existing system of governance, and that they had infected this Council and Order. 

“I took up my hereditary mantle as Count of Serenno with the belief that doing so would enable me to undertake the practice of fair governance. It was not long though, before the Sith Lord contacted me in the guise of a benevolent ally, a potential confidant. He was careful, guiding me slowly to his own positions. I did not notice my Fall at first, nor how he engineered it. But I came to know his name and nature, and when I did, I understood that it was too late, that he would kill me before he allowed my betrayal. And yet I stand before you willing to betray him, as he has betrayed the Republic he once swore to serve,” Dooku said, his eyes fixed on his clenched hands in his lap. Every Jedi in the room hung on his words, listening both with their ears and with their innate connection to the Force, discerning the veracity of Dooku’s tale. 

“He is highly placed then,” Mace stated as much as questioned, and Dooku dipped his head in affirmation but did not offer the name of the Sith that had corrupted him. The Councillors traded speaking looks, and the Force enveloped them as they communicated mind to mind. Such was the purview of the High Council, and allowed them to convey complex nuance and detail with a single thought, a brush of feeling. Yoda _hmmph_ ’d and peered at Dooku from beneath his wispy white eyebrows, fingers clasped on the handle of his gimer stick. 

“Gather evidence, we must, before move we should against such an opponent,” Yoda said decisively. “Probation you will be under, Padawan mine. Your old rooms you shall have, and keep an eye on you I will.” Dooku grimaced slightly, but nodded. From his seat, Mace caught Obi-Wan’s eyes and raised both eyebrows. Obi-Wan sighed, and dipped his head. An hour later Obi-Wan was splayed on the floor of the training salle, panting for breath as Mace stood over him with a vicious grin, sweat dripping from his nose. They’d discarded lightsabers for open-hand sparring twenty minutes previous, and despite his speed and agility, Obi-Wan had never once bested Mace at hand to hand.

“Solah,” Obi-Wan acceded with what grace was left to him. “You didn’t have to beat me _that_ badly. I know very well how annoyed you get when I bring home strays.” Mace just grinned wider, showing even more of his gleaming white teeth. “Ugh,” Obi-Wan said eloquently, and pushed himself up off the floor. “Now that that’s out of your system,” he said leadingly, and Mace snorted, then lead him off to the changing room. “So really nothing on Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked when he’d showered and changed, wrinkling his nose at his reflection as he trimmed his beard. 

“We’re operating under the assumption that they went after you to Geonosis,” Mace said, rubbing a light oil into his skin. “We’ve sent a scout, but it will be a day or two earliest before they’re back, and that assumes they aren’t delayed, or shot down by the Geonosians.” Obi-Wan nodded, combing a dab of pomade through his hair. He’d need a haircut soon, he was almost at Qui-Gon levels of disreputable looking. 

“Dinner?” Obi-Wan offered once he’d completed his toilette. He studiously didn't track the way Mace’s muscles gleamed in the bright light. A man who sat in a cushy chair most of the day had no business being built like that. Obi-Wan’s physique ranged between scrawny and lithely muscled depending on how dedicated he was to remembering regular mealtimes and keeping up with his calisthenics and ‘saber forms. While he knew that a Jedi ought not concern themself with aesthetics that didn't mean Obi-Wan was blind. Of course it was oft argued that most if not all Jedi were attractive, what with their trained from youth grace and the beauty of transcendence. The metaphysics of attraction was a matter for another day though.

“How about you come eat at mine,” Mace returned with a sharp look. Obi-Wan flushed. It wasn't bragging to say he was a good cook, but he often forgot to requisition groceries, or had Anakin do it, which meant that his Padawan selected a half dozen things not compatible with human digestion because they sounded interesting. Obi-Wan was all for adventurous eating, one of his best friends since the creche was Mon Calamari, and ate only aquatic proteins, and Obi-Wan had spent his Padawanship bouncing from one disparate world to another at his Master’s side, eating whatever was placed in front of him with good grace to preserve diplomacy and honour local customs. Despite having a cast iron stomach, a person could only eat so much scorpian before they seriously contemplated murder. Dinner at Obi-Wan’s was always an experience, and not one that most wished to repeat.

“That would be a kindness,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I’m not sure what exactly is in my conservator.” 

Mace had the makings of spicy Yavinese fish stew, and Obi-Wan pitched in by cracking open a pair of beers (Corellian Trade Route Ale, Obi-Wan’s favorite) and then making soft Chalactan flatbreads. Mace caught Obi-Wan up on the Temple gossip as they cooked and ate, or rather, complained about the trouble Xanatos and Bruck had managed to find in Obi-Wan’s absence. Sometimes Obi-Wan was convinced he actually had three Padawans, one of them just happened to be a decade his senior. There was a reason Obi-Wan’s eldest Padawan brother never returned to the Temple, and that reason was that Feemor was terrible at riding herd on Xanatos and Bruck, and just ended up exacerbating their scrapes and getting reprimanded by the Council himself.

By the time Obi-Wan strolled back to his apartment, he was a little flushed from the beers, and fighting the urge to smile in a manner entirely unbefitting of a Jedi Master. Mace kept him grounded though, in a way not many others dared to; Obi-Wan’s reputation as someone who hung out with Darksiders, the one who had killed the first true Sith seen in a millennium, tended to make people treat him in ways Obi-Wan simply couldn’t comprehend. He had never seen himself as admirable for killing Maul, but neither did he enjoy being treated as a pariah by those who disdained Xanatos and Bruck. 

Mace always treated Obi-Wan like he treated everyone else though, with respect where it was earned, gruff affection where it was warranted, and a hard dose of reality when that was what was needed. When Obi-Wan had worried that somehow there was a Darkness in himself that had drawn Xanatos and Bruck and a dozen or more other dangerous types over the years, Mace had bracingly reminded Obi-Wan of what he already knew so well; staying in the Light was not a one and done achievement. Openness to the Light side the Force was a continual struggle, a journey each Jedi walked over the course of their life. 

Some of Jedi paths skirted closer to the shadows than the others. But even if there _was_ Darkness in Obi-Wan, that only made him human, made him a fallible being as all sentients were. Was there not a Darkness in Mace after all, an everburning rage that had spurred him to create the Vaapad? Darkness was normal. It was giving in that flew in the face of millennia of Jedi doctrine. There was no perfection save the Force itself, and even the most revered Jedi Master ought to be questioning and questioned, as the Force was interpreted by creatures of faith, devotion, and the ability to make profound mistakes.

“Hey Sithbait,” called a familiar voice as Obi-Wan neared his quarters, pulling him from his warm contemplation of Mace’s deep voice and Mace’s large hands. Obi-Wan flushed, more than a little embarrassed to be caught daydreaming, and turned with a raised eyebrow to see Quinlan sauntering towards him with a grin. 

“Quinlan,” Obi-Wan greeted, his tone dry as Jakku. His friend and sometime lover was another who refused to buy into the aura that had grown up around Obi-Wan, and while he appreciated that, he’d appreciate it more if the bantha-brained fool didn’t call him _Sithbait_. It was rather a lost cause though, and his other friends had picked up the epithet since they knew quite well how much it annoyed Obi-Wan. 

“We’re starting Dooku’s debrief in the morning at sixth hour, you’re welcome to join us,” Quin invited. By virtue of his reputation, Obi-Wan was something of an honourary Shadow, despite being a Consular-trained Guardian. It was the only aspect of his reputation that he viewed as a benefit.

“I’ll be there,” Obi-Wan promised, then waved his goodnight and entered his rooms. Faint light streamed in from the city beyond the windows, but Obi-Wan didn’t need it to navigate. He stepped in and locked the door down, then found his way by habit around the few simple furnishings to the small kitchenette. Starting water, he prepared the mildly soporific tea blend he preferred for nighttime. Leaving the kettle to heat, Obi-Wan ambled towards his bedroom, unfastening his belt and sashes as he walked. 

By the time he entered his room, the fastenings of his tunics were undone, and they hung loose from his shoulders, swaying a little around his hips with each step. Setting his belt near the head of his futon, Obi-Wan shrugged out of the rest and hopped on one foot, then the other as he pulled off his boots. Planning to wear the same set of uniforms the next day (they weren’t dirty after all, nor holey nor tattered, perfectly serviceable) he let them fall where gravity led them. 

Wriggling his toes, Obi-Wan padded barefoot back out to the kitchenette and poured the steaming water over his tea leaves. Bringing the cup with him, he stepped out on the balcony and just listened. The neverending traffic of the ecumenopolis was a muted hush this high up in the Temple. The soft chirp of insects in the gardens was louder, and Obi-Wan focused on that as he knelt, reaching for the Force. Clasping the warm mug in both hands, Obi-Wan settled easily into a light meditation.

It had taken years of practice for this to become simple to Obi-Wan, but the habit had served him well. Every night he meditated, setting his memories of the day solidly in mind, releasing any lingering emotions into the Force. It settled him, made the Force easier to reach in times of greater need. It also helped with recall; Obi-Wan rarely misremembered a fact or a face, and could describe in perfect detail any given day from the age of about sixteen onwards. Once his day was set in his mind and his emotions accepted and released, Obi-Wan surfaced and drank his now perfect temperature tea. Rising, he padded back inside, rinsed his mug, and returned to his room, flopping down onto his mattress. 

“Ugh,” Obi-Wan grunted into his pillow, then reached blindly for his belt and fished his comm out of one of the utility pouches. By touch alone he silenced the chime and set it to vibrate, and to alert at fifth hour. It was unlikely he’d actually sleep that late, usually he rose when the sky paled overhead, but it never hurt to have a backup plan. With another soft noise of appreciation for being home and in his own bed, Obi-Wan let the gentle soporifics of the warm tea take effect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Errrr, there are at least a couple more chapters I'm beating into a semblance of shape. Anakin will show up, but not for a bit because the first chapter was short and I'm basing subsequent chapter lengths off that so there aren't any sudden longer chapters to wade through.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin to the rescue! Or, you know, not. Anakin in need of rescue, tbh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! Have some fic! 
> 
> I don't really have a posting schedule because as previously stated I'm bad at planning, and this fic is just going along at its own pace. This chap is longer than the previous ones, which I was trying to not do because consistency! but I'm bad at that so here you go.

Rather to Obi-Wan’s dismay, the shrill chiming of an urgent transmission woke him long before fifth hour. He groaned as he blindly silenced his comm, then staggered blearily to the ‘fresher and splashed cold water on his face until he felt like his eyes might actually be willing to open. Staring into the mirror, Obi-Wan manfully resisted the urge to curse in every language he knew. He felt like he’d been dragged through the swamps of Dagobah. Backwards. 

“Ugh,” Obi-Wan commented, then stuck his head back under the faucet. After a moment, he stood back up sputtering, and combed his hair with a dab of pomade. Unfortunately, avoidance wouldn’t keep whatever problem he’d been commed about from bothering him. He might as well tackle it head on. Grumbling, he toweled off his face and padded to the kitchen, starting some water and selecting a tin of the strongest tea he owned. While the water heated up, Obi-Wan quickly dressed, then knelt for a short meditation to prepare his mind for what promised to be a too long day.

By the time Obi-Wan reached the communications hub, it seemed half the Knights in the Temple were there, along with all the Masters of the High Council. Mace met his eyes, and while Mace’s face didn’t shift, maintaining that perfect Jedi mask, Obi-Wan could tell that he wasn’t going to like this. Mace broke their linked gaze, looking to one of the technicians standing by. 

“Play it,” Mace ordered, and a blue holo flickered to life. Obi-Wan didn’t recognize the being depicted, although he was certain they were Geonosian. They were a rather distinctive species once you’d met one.

“Greetings, Republic scum,” the Geonosian sneered, their voice echoing and fuzzing slightly. “We have captured the Jedi Anakin Skywalker and Senator Padme Amidala in gross violation of the territorial boundaries of the sovereign system of Geonosis. Unless reparations are made, they will be put to the death for this offense.”

The words didn’t match the being’s mouth, and Obi-Wan drew what he knew of the Geonosians from his memory. They were an insectoid species. Their mouths were incapable of speaking Galactic Basic, which meant they were likely hearing a translation provided by a protocol droid. Further demands and threats were issued, but Obi-Wan had heard enough. He was busy staring at the proof of life - AKA his Padawan who was even worse at following orders than the rest of their Force-forsaken Lineage, and the Senator said Padawan was supposed to be protecting.

“I’ll go get them,” Obi-Wan volunteered. In a way, it was utterly anticipated. It was also likely a trap, but that didn’t concern Obi-Wan too deeply. He’d learned from his revered Master that the optimal method of foiling a trap was springing it and then running away laughing. It didn’t always work of course, but he also wasn’t about to let his Padawan be killed, nor Senator Amidala. He’d put far too much effort into training Anakin, and Amidala was one of the few politicians who seemed to actually care about her constituents. He rather liked them both, despite Anakin’s recent inability to string a coherent sentence together when in the same quadrant as the Senator.

“You absolutely will not,” Mace argued, and Obi-Wan merely raised his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Every Jedi in the room knew exactly what Obi-Wan meant without him speaking a single word. _Watch me_ was written in every line of Obi-Wan’s tension filled form. A hush settled over the room, and without turning, Obi-Wan felt Bruck approaching to settle at Obi-Wan’s shoulder and give Mace his own best _watch me_ look.

“No,” Mace reiterated. “Not only no but abso-mother-kriffing-lutely not. Chun, maybe if you can come up with a plan that has more than a snowflake’s chance on Mustafar of getting you in and the three of you out without instigating a galactic civil war. But there is no way you’re going back there Kenobi, not when you haven’t even debriefed yet from your _last_ trip to Geonosis and most recent Sith acquisition.”

“I’ll go with Bruck,” Xanatos called from wherever he was hiding in the thick press of Jedi filling the command centre. “Skywalker’s a little brat, but he’s Kenobi’s brat. Besides, no one deserves to be imprisoned with the twerp. Amidala’s one of the few Senators worth her salary.” Obi-Wan raised his other eyebrow at Mace.

“You are the _worst_ , your entire line,” Mace growled, and Obi-Wan very politely refrained from smirking in triumph. “I want to see an extraction plan before you leave du Crion, and it can’t be ‘go in, bomb them back to the stone age, leave,’ understand?”

“Yes Councillor,” Xanatos said in that perfectly polite tone that implied butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Obi-Wan was certain his brother-Padawan wasn’t even trying to hide his smirk. Setting things on fire seemed to be their Lineages other specialty, besides giving the Jedi High Council agita.

“Good, we’ll forward you what we’ve managed to scrub from the transmission,” Mace said, then looked over at Yoda. 

“Another task we have for you, hmmmm young Master Kenobi?” Yoda said, and Obi-Wan managed not to groan in irritation. Of course. He had known it was unlikely he could go retrieve his Padawan - attachment, he reminded himself - but now he would be foisted off on some other menial job to keep him busy. “Asked for your knowledge of the Separatist base on Geonosis, the Chancellor has.”

Obi-Wan very wisely refrained from cursing. Palpatine was the worst sort of politician in Obi-Wan’s rather biased opinion; genial and grandfatherly on first impression, but with the slick sense of a being only out for himself beneath. Palpatine had profited greatly from Naboo’s troubles since the Trade Federation blockade a decade before, and Obi-Wan loathed him as he loathed few others. For most beings, Obi-Wan could dredge up a glimmer of understanding at least, a smidge of empathy. He felt not the slightest sliver of compassion for Sheev Palpatine. The man was odious, and his constant pestering got on Obi-Wan’s last nerve.

Ever since Obi-Wan had slain the Sith apprentice during the debacle at Naboo, Palpatine had been sniffing about. At first, Obi-Wan had feared the Chancellor was a pedophile lusting after Anakin, seeing how the then Senator watched the boy with poorly hidden covetousness. But Palpatine never asked for Anakin to visit alone, never made overtures to separate Anakin from Obi-Wan or the other Jedi, despite his continual questioning after the health and achievements of Obi-Wan’s Padawan. And no matter how Obi-Wan deflected and obfuscated, Palpatine persisted in asking after Obi-Wan as well. 

If it were almost anyone else, Obi-Wan would have thought he was being courted, but it made absolutely zero sense to him for the Chancellor of the Galactic Republic to be courting an overworked Jedi Knight. Besides, Obi-Wan had zero interest in politicians in general and even less in a creepily friendly, self-aggrandizing power grubbers like Palpatine. When the Chancellor summoned, Obi-Wan always tried to find an excuse to put the skeevy old man off. Situations like this though, where Obi-Wan had singlehandedly done something thought impossible; well, he wouldn’t be able to avoid Palpatine’s questions about Dooku. Luckily, the Council was likewise leery of Palpatine’s interest in Obi-Wan, so they didn’t scold too much when Obi-Wan gave the old lech a brush off. 

“When does the Chancellor expect me?” Obi-Wan asked wearily. 

“Fourteenth hour,” Mace answered. After mid-meal then. That was good - eating with the Chancellor was always a good way to put Obi-Wan off his appetite. Even better, Obi-Wan could still attend the Shadows’ first debrief with Dooku. With that thought, Obi-Wan glanced at a chrono. It wasn’t sixth hour yet, barely even fourth, but his stomach was beginning to protest at his early hour of rising and lack of nourishment. 

“I’ll be there,” Obi-Wan promised, despite that he would rather do anything _but_ visit the Chancellor. “If that’s all?”

“That’s all,” Mace said, tone a bit softer, almost conciliatory. He, like most of the Councillors knew just how much Obi-Wan disdained having to answer the summons of the Chancellery. Obi-Wan imagined Mace had barely slept that night with all the work Dooku’s capture and then this transmission from Geonosis would have made, and didn’t envy him in the least. There was a reason that Councillors were required to visit the mind healers at a certain frequency. The amount of stress present in their lives could be seriously detrimental if they didn’t cope in a healthy manner. 

“Wonderful,” Obi-Wan said with false cheer, then about-faced and strode off, clenching his fists at his sides. He made it about three steps out the door before Bruck turned up at his shoulder like a particularly persistent rash, and Obi-Wan was sure Xanatos wasn’t far off. “I’m going to eat now,” Obi-Wan warned. 

“Ooooh hot cereal?” Bruck requested, and Obi-Wan sighed, then nodded in affirmation. Bruck would invite himself even if Obi-Wan tried to refuse him, so he might as well include the brat from the start. 

“Are you joining us Xanatos?” Obi-Wan asked without turning around.

“He is,” Bruck answered for his former Master. Obi-Wan just shook his head, but Xanatos didn’t argue. 

“Then I need to stop at the quartermaster’s,” Obi-Wan said. “Come by in an hour.” Bruck huffed, then swanned off with a flick of his white hair. Xanatos breezed by, leaving a hint of smoky incense in his wake. A trip to the quartermaster turned up cereal, milk, some seasonal fruits and a few other things necessary for breakfast. While he was there, Obi-Wan ordered enough groceries to last himself a tenday, and a few tins of tea. He also had to requisition a new cloak, since the one he’d left for Kamino in was on Geonosis in his abandoned Aethersprite, which he was sure he’d get a thorough scolding over when someone realized. Or maybe Bruck and Xanatos could rescue that along with Anakin and Senator Amidala. He’d have to suggest it. They might be annoyances at times, but they were persistent and loyal if nothing else.

Supplies retrieved, Obi-Wan prepared first-meal and tea, and while the cereal was cooking and the tea was heating, he washed up properly since he’d essentially rolled out of his bed and into his boots earlier. Obi-Wan’s morning routine wasn’t particularly intensive, but he was rather fastidious by nature and always felt more prepared to face the day when his teeth were properly brushed, his hair properly combed, and his face properly washed.

Just short of an hour passed before the door chime sounded, so Obi-Wan negligently waved it open. His former Master might have disdained ‘frivolous Force use’ but honestly he’d been even worse than Obi-Wan about little tasks like answering the door or fetching something from across the room. Instead of Xanatos and Bruck as expected, Mace stood in the doorway, eyebrow raised in silent (and likely entirely false) disapproval. Obi-Wan simply reached down another bowl and teacup. 

“I’m assuming you want to be fed?” Obi-Wan said as he laid another place at the table. 

“Depends what you cooked,” Mace teased. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes

“It’s just hot cereal and fruit, relax, and Anakin isn’t here to make any _interesting_ additions to the grocery list,” Obi-Wan said and Mace sat down, pouring himself a cup of the hot spiced tea. “You do know Bruck and Xanatos are coming?” Obi-Wan warned. Mace and Xanatos tended to be politely chilly at one another, and Bruck just generally annoyed everyone, but especially Mace.

“I can put up with them,” Mace said evenly, a slight smile lurking at the corners of his mouth even though his tone clearly indicated he would rather not. He leaned into the table on his elbows though, relaxed and as content as he ever was. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile a bit in response

“I take it you’re here to supervise their mission planning?” Obi-Wan guessed.

“Not wholly, although that does factor into my motivation,” Mace said evasively, dark eyes glittering. Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes appraisingly, but said nothing. “I’m also here to occupy you until Dooku’s debrief.”

“What, you don’t trust me not to run off with Xanatos and Bruck?” Obi-Wan asked somewhat indignantly, and Mace just peered at him over the top of his teacup. “It was once!” Obi-Wan exclaimed.

“It was at least three times, and each time you brought home at least one unexpected youngling to the Temple creche,” Mace corrected dryly. 

“They needed help,” Obi-Wan argued heatlessly. 

“They did, and we have official channels for that,” Mace reminded, if only because it was his job. They both knew that the children Obi-Wan found tended to be in untenable situations where, if Obi-Wan followed procedure, they would have disappeared or been injured. Obi-Wan set aside his instinctive flare of self-righteous anger, as they’d had this argument more than once before. It was an argument Mace always won, since Obi-Wan did tend to agree that they had their procedures for a reason, and therefore those procedures ought to be followed. 

“So the Chancellor,” Obi-Wan said leadingly, and Mace shrugged. 

“His office called almost as soon as the transmission from Geonosis was received. We’re assuming that the communique had other recipients,” Mace said. “He wasn’t terribly forthcoming about what he wanted with you.”

“He never is,” Obi-Wan huffed. “Isn’t his term up soon? I mean - you know what I mean. This emergency term or whatever they’re calling it since _flagrant power grab_ isn’t politically correct.” Mace snorted softly at that. 

“He’s been saying he’ll resign after the Military Creation Act is either passed or defeated decisively,” Mace said. “I don’t believe a word of it, but what do I know.” Obi-Wan leveled an unamused look across the table at that. While Mace might not enjoy politics, he understood it more than well enough. Mace chuckled softly at Obi-Wan’s speaking look, knowing he was being silently reprimanded. Over the years, Mace had been first a much needed mentor when Obi-Wan was suddenly a Knight, and then later a just as needed friend. They’d come to know and read one another well in that time, and Obi-Wan deeply appreciated the time they spent together. It was nice to have an adult friend.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast with Bruck, Xanatos and Mace, then the Dooku debrief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably never update this quickly again, but parts of this started off in the last chapter before it got longer than I wanted. enjoy!

Bruck blew into Obi-Wan’s quarters without knocking or ringing the chime, interrupting the conversation Mace and Obi-Wan had settled into about the strain between a number of individual planets and the Senate. The tensions had been building for years, to the degree that the Jedi weren’t terribly surprised when the Military Creation Act was drafted, despite their opposition to the legislation. 

“Ugh, you’re here?” Bruck greeted Mace, to which Mace responded with a raised eyebrow, silently echoed by Obi-Wan. “You two are creepy,” Bruck complained. At that, Mace and Obi-Wan traded a long-suffering glance, and Bruck made a dramatic noise of disgust. 

“Shut it,” Mace and Obi-Wan said in unison, turning back to Bruck. A moment later the door chime sounded, shrilling repeatedly until the sound melded into a long, obnoxious trill. 

“Oh pfassk,” Obi-Wan sighed, and waved the door open. Xanatos gave that damned innocent smile, posing in the doorway. “Come in already laserbrain, I know you have the doorcode,” Obi-Wan groused, and Xanatos’ smile widened as he sauntered in and saw Mace already at the table. 

“Good morning Master Windu,” Xanatos greeted with exaggerated solicitude. “I wasn’t aware you would be joining us?” 

“Mmmm,” Mace returned with a disbelieving look, and kicked out one of the other chairs. Xanatos sat with ostentatious grace, folding himself down into the chair and then pouring himself a cup of tea. 

“Thank you for the lovely meal Obi-Wan, it looks utterly delicious,” Xanatos said, persisting in his facetious mannerliness, and Obi-Wan sighed, looking back to Mace for assistance. 

“Eat, then we’re planning your mission to my satisfaction,” Mace commanded, and Xanatos pointedly continued to sip at his tea for a long moment, pinky lifted to a precise _kriff you_ angle before reaching for his bowl of hot cereal. He ate slowly and with pretentious care, watching Mace the entire time, pinky raised. Mace just stared back, leaning back expectantly in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, a single eyebrow elevated. Bruck and Obi-Wan watched the silent stand off like it was a particularly rousing bolo-ball match, looking at Mace, then Xanatos, then Mace and back again.

“Right, well,” Xanatos finally said, setting down his cleaned out bowl with a rather smug look. “Let’s see about rescuing your little twerp.” Obi-Wan glared heatlessly, and the four of them went over what they knew of Geonosis and the security employed at the facility where Obi-Wan had been held. Obi-Wan told them all he had seen, but he was well aware he had experienced only a small part of the planet and its defenses. It was likely though, that if Anakin had been looking for Obi-Wan, which was the assumption they were operating under, Anakin would have been aiming for Obi-Wan’s last known coordinates. 

They had the basics of a plan and a list of requisitions for the quartermaster by the time the door chime sounded again a bit before sixth hour. Obi-Wan sighed and wearily waved the door open. As he had half suspected, it was Quinlan, leaning against the doorframe with a lazy smile on his face. Obi-Wan stood, leaving the others to quibble over the details and silently exited his quarters.

“Well that looked fun,” Quinlan said cheerily. 

“Hmmm,” Obi-Wan hummed indifferently. 

“Think they’ll rinse the blood off the floor before they leave?” Quinlan teased. 

“Once,” Obi-Wan said darkly. 

“At least twice, they just got better at wiping up,” Quinlan argued with a smile, and Obi-Wan sighed.

“I’m not getting into this with you,” Obi-Wan warned, and Quinlan shrugged, then began asking about Geonosis and Dooku. Obi-Wan ignored him all the way up to the Tower of First Knowledge where the Shadows had congregated. Obi-Wan nodded in greeting as he entered, settling against the back wall of the room where the questioning would take place within Dooku’s line of vision. Almost imperceptibly Dooku relaxed a bit, his long fingers unfurling slightly, the line of his broad shoulders loosening. Master Even Piell, one of the members of the Council of First Knowledge, entered and sat opposite Dooku. Madame Jocasta Nu settled at his side, her thin hands bearing recording equipment to document the questioning.

“Begin,” Master Piell simply said. Dooku’s thick silver brows lowered into a frown, but after a moments hesitation he spoke. As in the chamber of the High Council, he began with the tale of his disaffection with the Code and Council, his perception that the Order was on the wrong path and unwilling to listen to reason. He spoke of the slow seduction of the Sith once he had left the Order, the careful displays of power and hints of arcane wisdom. A Sentinel who had long hunted knowledge, the hints intrigued Dooku. The courtship, in retrospect, had clearly been tailored to appeal to Dooku’s intellectual curiosity and arrogance.

Dooku told the tale less concisely that day, diverting down rambling tangents on Sith philosophy and the powers of the Dark side of the Force, excursions he had taken to Sith worlds like Korriban and Malachor in search of ancient holocrons and other artifacts. This was also the first he mentioned an apprentice left behind on Serenno. By the time twelfth hour came, and with it the break for mid-meal, Obi-Wan’s patience was sorely tested. While the information Dooku was giving them was invaluable, he still hadn’t named the Sith Lord who had overseen his Fall.

The mood was grim as the Shadows ate, no one talking. Despite not naming the Sith, what Dooku had told them was deeply troubling. The Line of Bane had been in hiding since the end of the Sith Wars a millennia before, allowing the Jedi to think them wiped out. Their reemergence could only be a prelude to chaos, and according to Dooku, they had been manipulating themselves back into power for decades now. War was on the horizon, Dooku warned, and the Sith had a multitude of contingency plans to ensure their vision of galactic chaos developed to fruition.

The Sith had already had a hand in arranging the Stark Hyperspace Conflict, the Naboo Crisis, the Yinchorri Uprising and a number of other clashes that had caused the deaths of Jedi in the field. Dooku even suspected his Sith Master of assisting in the continuation of the long and tumultuous Mandalorian Civil War, including the massacre at Galidraan that still haunted Dooku, and which had seen to the deaths of six Jedi at the hands of Mand’alor Jango Fett, and the wholesale slaughter of Fett’s True Mandalorian faction. 

“Forgive me grandmaster, but you have spoken much and yet said little on the matter which troubles us all,” Obi-Wan cut in when Dooku paused to take a sip of water nearly an hour after they’d begun again after mid-meal. “These philosophies are spoken of, these worlds, known, if forbidden. You warned me a Dark Lord sat at the center of the Republic like a spider in a web, and yet now you would speak of anything but that Sith Lord. Does he still hold your loyalty, and curb your tongue? You conveyed to me your willingness to cooperate before we left Geonosis, but I have seen little of that willingness here.”

“He is dangerous beyond what you can comprehend dear one,” Dooku all but pled. “Without corroboration of my claims, proof beyond reproof, there is no hope of dismantling his power.”

“Give us a place to start then, some small bit of evidence as confirmation of your own cooperation,” Master Piell demanded. Dooku hesitated, then nodded. 

“Ten years ago on Naboo the previous Apprentice was slain,” Dooku said, nodding at Obi-Wan in recognition. “My Padawan Qui-Gon Jinn was not the first Jedi that Maul slew. He was responsible also for the deaths of Padawan Darsha Assant and Battlemaster Anoon Bondara here on Coruscant.” A chill swept down Obi-Wan’s spine at that. He had investigated the disappearances and later deaths of Darsha and Master Bondara himself. Darsha had been his friend from the time they were in the creche, and Master Bondara a much admired teacher.

Obi-Wan returned the nod slowly, debating whether or not he wanted to reopen that can of worms himself, or leave it to the Shadows. Either way, he was done listening for the day. He would need to report to the Chancellor’s office soon, and doing so with his mind as unsettled as it currently was would only invite trouble. Obi-Wan slipped from the room, and found his way to the quiet stillness of the Star-map room. There, he knelt and opened himself to the Force, meditating on Dooku’s tale and how best to use the information provided. The Force was quiet, but meditation settled Obi-Wan nevertheless, and he was in a somewhat better mood when he left for the Senate dome.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan visits skeevy Sheev and starts asking questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Star Wars Day y'all! May the fourth be with you.

“Your Excellency,” Obi-Wan greeted in a slightly cool but perfectly polite tone, bowing to the exact degree required by protocol. Somehow, his precise adherence to the strictures of etiquette made the observance seem facetious, just as Obi-Wan had intended. And yet for the Chancellor to draw attention to the perceived slight would only make Palpatine look paranoid and vaguely ridiculous. A win-win scenario, in Obi-Wan’s opinion.

Such was the norm for their interactions, the utmost politeness as a method of needling at one another, each trying to make the other break form and misstep. This had not always been the case; when Obi-Wan first returned from Naboo, bereaved and suddenly responsible for another’s well being, Palpatine had been solicitously kind. Obi-Wan had ignored the overtures of friendship at first, having already nurtured a distrust of politicians, and frankly too shattered by the loss of his Master to really register anything but pain, his responsibility for Anakin, and the familiar presences of Bruck and Xanatos and Feemor. As the years passed, Obi-Wan had become wary of the Chancellor, vaguely discomfited by the older man’s grandfatherly persona and ever grasping accrual of power. One did not become head of a galactic republic by being _kind_ after all. 

“Master Jedi,” Palpatine returned the greeting, graciously motioning Obi-Wan toward the seating area. “Please, I’ve just had tea sent up. A Felucian variety, Tieguanyin, have you sampled it before?” Obi-Wan very sternly kept himself from reacting. Tieguanyin was one of the most expensive teas produced, he’d have to save up his stipend for years to afford a sip, nevermind a pot full.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the opportunity,” Obi-Wan said mildly as he sat. “It is a somewhat rare variety, is it not?” Rare. Ha. Almost impossible to source would be more accurate a description. 

“I believe so, yes, a small gift of gratitude,” Palpatine said, waving it off negligently. “I _am_ sorry to call you here on such short notice, I’m sure you have a great many other responsibilities,” he lead with, when it became clear that Obi-Wan would not open a conversational topic. 

“Nothing pressing,” Obi-Wan said equanimously, accepting a fine porcelain cup he was certain the value of which could furnish a small family with all dietary needs for a year. The tea smelled divine, and he sipped it carefully. No poison, so that was good, nor any other mood altering substances. Not that there was a history of such between them, but it never hurt for a Jedi to be careful. 

“The Jedi are not troubled then, with the ransom demands from these Separatists?” Palpatine pressed with concern that rang false in the Force.

“No, we do not bargain for hostages,” Obi-Wan said with a facade of unconcern. His words bore truth, even if his tone was misleading. He was very worried about his Padawan and the Senator, but Jedi hostages rarely stayed where they were put to be bargained for. He’d be highly surprised if Anakin and Padme were still in Geonosian custody when Xanatos and Bruck arrived to free them. Of course, that confinement field had been fairly efficacious. If he’d been held longer though, he was certain he could have worked his way out of it. 

“Not even your own Padawan?” Palpatine all but exclaimed. The man might be an excellent actor, but Obi-Wan could feel that the emotion displayed wasn’t actually felt. He couldn’t tell exactly what Palpatine _was_ feeling, but it wasn’t honest concern over Anakin. 

“I trust in his skills,” Obi-Wan said, maintaining his blasé mask. “And am familiar with Senator Amidala’s tendency to be a self-rescuing damsel. You should have greater trust in her your Excellency,” he chided gently. Palpatine bristled visibly at that, although he tried to hide his flare of temper. A petty little part of Obi-Wan cheered at having so discomposed the Chancellor. 

“Oh I have the greatest trust in Senator Amidala,” Palpatine effused. “I only worry, she is so very dear to me, you understand.” Obi-Wan hummed noncommittally. _Very dear_ , he huffed internally though. _By which you mean instrumental in your rise to power, due to having been an idealistic young ruler in a perilous situation, and therefore ripe for manipulation_. He kept such thoughts well hidden though, not allowing them to disrupt his projected equanimity. 

“Of course, she has been a great friend to you,” Obi-Wan agreed without a hint of the censure he felt. Palpatine seemed to understand nonetheless, but as always they persisted in their game, each maintaining his facade and trying to find a crack in the other’s mask. Palpatine asked about Geonosis, and Obi-Wan parried with information that might be found by any enterprising researcher with access to the HoloNet. 

Palpatine asked about Dooku and Obi-Wan deflected it as an internal Jedi matter. Palpatine asked about the Sith, and Obi-Wan merely smirked at him over his tea. In the end, neither of them learned much, and Obi-Wan left after an hour in a rather worse temper than he arrived in. He soon released that negative energy into the Force though, and turned his mind toward other matters. Like his errant Padawan.

By the time Obi-Wan returned to the Temple, Bruck and Xanatos had already left for Geonosis in a pair of Delta-7 Aethersprite light interceptors. There being no pressing engagements on his schedule, Obi-Wan took himself back to the Star-map room for further meditation. Without his two chief irritants in the Temple, Obi-Wan could relax a little. When he surfaced from his meditation, Obi-Wan went to the salle and worked out for a few hours; calisthenics, open-hand combat drills, and lightsaber forms to burn through his anxious energy. 

Still feeling a little more aggressive than usual after his meeting with the Chancellor, Obi-Wan worked the Ataru forms, bounding and spinning through the motions until he’d soaked his tunics through with honest sweat. Pleasantly exhausted, Obi-Wan was content as he showered off and went back to his quarters. Even better, he put his comm on _do not disturb_ and managed to spend the rest of the evening with a treatise on the fabrication of Force-imbued swords in the days of the Tython temples. After a nice long shower, Obi-Wan went to bed, having meditated away his persistent anxiety about his missing Padawan. 

Obi-Wan spent the following day going over what he’d discovered on Kamino, trying to back trace the production of the clone army, and figure out how in the world an order for so many clones had been financed. While the Jedi were certainly not impoverished, most of their budget went to disaster relief, with their upkeep coming as their second largest expense. But they owned their Temple and the land beneath it and air above. 

The Jedi fed themselves and supplied a great deal of humanitarian aid from the AgriCorps, as well as doing environmental remediation work like he had originally been sent to Bandomeer for. The various other Service Corps earned a large portion of their remaining budgetary needs, the Senate paying only a small percentage of the Order’s operating costs, and any difference was more than made up by donations from the public and grateful governments who had benefited from their services. Contracting the cloning services of the Kaminoans though, would not have been cheap, and would likely be far beyond the reach of the Order, even if there was a payment by installation plan. 

An even greater puzzle to Obi-Wan was the presence of Jango Fett. As Dooku had said, the erstwhile Mand’alor despised Jedi. Fett held the Order, and particularly Dooku, responsible for the massacre of his people at Galidraan, and Obi-Wan couldn’t fault Fett for that. Galidraan had been spoken of in utter horror even years later when Obi-Wan had been assigned to protect Satine Kryze, who had risen to the leadership of the New Mandalorian faction in the long running civil war. So what could possibly induce Jango Fett into working for Dooku? 

There was remuneration of course, but a man who rose to become Mand’alor of his people wouldn’t be satiated by mere pecuniary gain. There was the boy, a clone Jango had claimed as son. But even with the traditional Mandalorian warrior creed exhorting the importance of family and training of warriors, that seemed an unbalanced deal. There had to be some reason Jango had taken the contract to let himself be cloned for an army meant for the Republic. 

Obi-Wan let the problem percolate at the back of his mind as he undertook his usual in-Temple routines. He visited with friends, sparred and meditated. He did domestic chores, mending some of his more disreputable tunics, polishing his boots, and tending the hardy plants in the quarters he shared with Anakin. When that wasn’t enough to fill his days, he undertook personal research and did some light reading, and spent time with the younglings in the creche. Just because a Jedi was between missions, it didn’t mean they were off duty. 

It was always possible, Obi-Wan thought, to better oneself, and he felt it his obligation as a Jedi to take advantage of the innumerable privileges available to him. So he teased those of his friends who were in Temple, meditated with Initiates, and sparred with Kit and Quinlan and Mace and anyone else who wished to test themself against his blade. If he partnered Mace more than most, well, that was only because the Councillor was such an interesting opponent. It had absolutely nothing to do with the thrill that raced through him when Mace bared his teeth at him, cool violet light gleaming off his sweat slicked face.

In between his various activities, Obi-Wan also spent what time he could with his grandmaster. Dooku was confined to Yoda’s quarters when not answering questions for the Shadows, a Sentinel posted on the door. Obi-Wan was rather of the opinion that if Dooku really wanted out, a single Sentinel wasn’t going to be enough to stop him, but he kept quiet on that front. Despite the obvious guard, Dooku seemed content enough, and always happy to see Obi-Wan, which Obi-Wan found strangely gratifying. Dooku was perfectly happy to just sit with Obi-Wan for a few hours, telling outrageous tales about Qui-Gon’s time as a Padawan, or his own training under Master Yoda. 

Obi-Wan made sure to meditate with his Grandmaster when he visited, their hands joined as they knelt together in Yoda’s hothouse of an apartment, surrounded by orchids that smelled vaguely of rotting meat and dripping bromeliads. Each passing day, Obi-Wan could feel the fear and Darkness in Dooku less, and the Light and hope grew stronger. Obi-Wan took to bringing a holobook with him to lend his Grandmaster, and they had long meandering discussions on the nature of the Force and the path of a Jedi. They argued with heat but no rancor, shifting and altering their positions until they found a middle ground or each had convinced the other and they ended up on opposite sides of the issue than where they had started. 

“Tell me about Jango Fett,” Obi-Wan finally asked after a few days, the reasoning on using the Mand’alor as the template for the clone army still not making sense to him. Dooku sighed. 

“I can’t tell you why he took the contract,” Dooku admitted. “My Master recommended him for the template.” Obi-Wan’s blood ran cold at that. 

“You didn’t select him yourself?” Obi-Wan asked, to be certain. 

“I vetted him, but I didn’t select him, no,” Dooku said carefully. 

“Grandmaster, please,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Please, there is more to this, surely you sense it as well.”

“It was implied that the army would be the downfall of the Jedi, but other than liaising with Fett and supplying the Kaminoans with information from my Master, I have had little to do with the clones,” Dooku said.

“Do you know what the information was, that your Master passed to the Kaminoans?” Obi-Wan pressed.

“No, I didn’t look into it,” Dooku said, brows drawing down thoughtfully. He rubbed a finger over his lower lip as he ruminated. “I’m afraid that’s all I know about the clones, I had little to do with that aspect - my mission was the fomenting of war from the other direction.”

“Do you think the Kaminoans would give you more information?” Obi-Wan asked hopefully, and Dooku nodded thoughtfully.

“I believe they would. They have no reason to suspect my change in alliance unless my Master contacts them himself, and given the lengths he’s gone to maintain his distance from the project, I believe he wouldn’t break his silence,” Dooku said. “I take it you would like me to investigate this further?”

“I wouldn’t want to impose, grandmaster,” Obi-Wan murmured. “But if you were willing and the Council permits, then yes, I think it would be wise. This army was created for a purpose. Jango Fett was chosen for a purpose. The Sith had his reasons, and I would prefer knowing those reasons before they blow up in our faces.”

“You’re right of course,” Dooku admitted. “I imagine I wouldn’t be permitted to investigate alone, but I will offer my services on the matter to the High Council. Are they keeping you in Temple long term? I - I hope you aren’t on restriction on my account?”

“Nothing so serious as that,” Obi-Wan said with a smile. “I’m not officially on restriction, but I am waiting on my Padawan, and I’ve volunteered to reopen the case of Master Bondara and Padawan Assant, since I was the primary investigator when they first disappeared. I’ve been reading over some of my old notes and the case files. It will be a difficult trail to follow after so long, but perhaps the age of it will keep the Sith from noticing our interest until we link it back to him. You said it yourself, we need evidence before we can move against someone with ties to the Senate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Facts: Tieguanyin is real, and really one of the most expensive teas in the real world.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and Padme are back and the Lineage has family dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Padme is Not Happy. Listen, without Imminent DeathTM I don’t think Padme and Anakin would have hooked up so quick. I think Padme is a grown ass (if young) woman and if she spent an extended period of time with grumpycat teenager Anakin Skywalker who wanted in her pants and had idolized her as a mythical being for the last decade she’d say hell to the no.
> 
> Also, I wrote this while grumpy with Qui-Gon and you can probably tell (I mean, I’m grumpy about him a lot because Obi-Wan Deserved BetterTM, but that’s a different story. Chapter. Whatever).

A week after Bruck and Xanatos set out, Obi-Wan received a text from Bruck that they had passed through Coruscant planetary defense, and were headed for the Temple hangars in a Naboo Royal yacht. The three Aethersprites had been returned on autopilot by the astromechs a few days before, which had made the lecture Obi-Wan got from the hangar staff far less scathing than it could have been. Mentally, he thanked his Padawan-brother and ‘nephew’ for thinking to have their astromech send the return order to the droid he’d left on Geonosis with his Aethersprite.

Senator Amidala managed to sweep regally down the ramp of the Naboo ship despite wearing a skintight outfit. She was mostly clean, although the garment had clearly seen better days, and the blaster holster at her thigh was glaringly empty. From the thinned press of her mouth to the tense set of her shoulders, it was clear she wasn’t happy. Obi-Wan didn’t half blame her. She’d been held captive with Anakin, who was a notoriously bad prisoner, and then been trapped on a ship with him and two of his least favorite people in existence, Xanatos and Bruck. 

“Madame Senator,” Obi-Wan greeted with a polite bow. “I’m pleased to see you home and well.” Her dark eyes sparked, and she visibly bit back the first words that lit on her tongue, likely a rather scathing comment on the abilities of the Jedi to properly ensure her safety and wellbeing. Obi-Wan didn’t half blame her. Guarding her had clearly been too much responsibility for Anakin alone, despite Anakin’s vociferous arguments to the contrary when they divided their duties. 

“I am pleased to be home,” Amidala settled on saying diplomatically if a little more coolly than their previous interactions might anticipate. She dipped her head sharply, then stalked past, clearly wanting to be shut of this debacle. A few strides past Obi-Wan, Amidala paused and sighed before turning back to him. “Pardon, Master Jedi, it is ill-done of me to blame you for my misfortunes. I imagine I will be summoned before one committee or another shortly, and I should like to refresh myself before facing the judgment my peers.”

“There is no need for apology,” Obi-Wan said understandingly. Her reputation had suffered in her absence, and she would be hardpressed to regain her previous level of power within the legislature. “You have been in a terrible situation. As I said, I am pleased to simply see that you are safe. I anticipate that the High Council may also wish for your report, but they will not rush you. Welcome home.” She nodded, settling slightly, and strode off a little less like she was expecting a gundark to pounce on her from behind.

“That totally wasn’t me,” Bruck said by way of greeting from the top of the ramp, having stayed at a distance to watch the Senator go. Obi-Wan merely raised an eyebrow at him. “Promise!” Bruck exclaimed, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but believe him. Bruck could be charming and diplomatic and lie like a shag carpet, but Obi-Wan had always been able to see through his bluster. “She’s grumpy with Anakin,” Bruck said smugly. “The little twerp thinks he’s in love and doesn’t understand why a grown ass woman with a whole lot going for her won’t just drop her panties at the sight of him.”

“You’re disgusting, Padawan mine,” Xanatos said with a disdainful sniff, sauntering down the ramp. As always he looked like he’d just walked out of the most luxurious spa in the quadrant, his long black hair falling in a sleek curtain behind his broad shoulders, his moon pale skin gleaming like ivory. It was no wonder that there were at least fifty odes to Xanatos’ beauty on Alderaan alone (Xanatos knew every single one, and had likely composed at least a dozen more). 

“It went well then?” Obi-Wan asked, assessing his brother-Padawan. Xanatos was unharmed, his walk as arrogantly loose hipped as ever. Bruck looked a little scuffed up, but he didn’t set quite as much by appearances as Xanatos did.

“Easy peasy until we got your Padawan sprung, that boy doesn’t know when to shut his mouth,” Xanatos said nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t a past master of the villainous monologue. 

“It was fine Nobes,” Bruck said, bounding forward to glomp onto Obi-Wan. 

“Ugh,” Obi-Wan commented, roughly pushing his age-mate away. “You smell like a sarlacc pit. Didn’t that fancy ship come with sonics?” 

_(Bruck didn’t_ actually _smell like a sarlacc pit. He smelled like some sort of ridiculously expensive cologne that was supposed to make people think of crisp winters and smoky fires and fragrant trees. Obi-Wan though, thought it smelled rather like a sarlacc pit, especially given the amount of the stuff Bruck had doused himself with.)_

“It did, but offending you is so easy,” Bruck chirped. “You love me.” 

“No, it would just be too much effort to kill you,” Obi-Wan sighed. “And where _is_ my Padawan? You haven’t ‘accidently’ locked him in the cargo bay have you?” he asked, making air quotes around _accidently_. It wouldn’t be the first time that putting the three of them in an enclosed space resulted in hissing and fighting, or Xanatos locking Anakin in a closet so Xanatos didn’t have to deal with him.

“Sulking,” Xanatos said with a smirk, and sauntered off. 

“Pouting,” Bruck amended. “That child has no idea how to talk to a lady. And then got all grouchy when I was simply polite to her. She’s been through a traumatic experience! I wasn’t going to let her deal with that alone.”

“Please tell me you didn’t sleep with the Senator,” Obi-Wan pled. It was like herding tooka.

“Please, I don’t sleep with women who’ve just escaped imprisonment,” Bruck chided, and Obi-Wan just gave him a look. “Okay, that was one time, okay, maybe twice, six times? But I’ve sworn it off Nobes, I swear,” Bruck said very earnestly, and Obi-Wan just snorted and rolled his eyes. Anakin finally appeared at the top of the ramp, and his bad mood was conveyed quite ably by his slouching figure. 

“By-eeee,” Bruck trilled, and swept off after Xanatos, who was waiting at the hangar doors.

“Why did you send _them_?” Anakin griped, sending a dark glare after Xanatos and Bruck, who were striding ahead, Xanatos leading Bruck in an affectionate headlock. 

“I’m sorry, _send_?” Obi-Wan asked, raising an eyebrow at Anakin. “Since when is it within my power to deploy Knights and Masters for missions? _Really_ Anakin.”

“Ugh,” Anakin _hmmphd_.

“I don’t know why you don’t like them,” Obi-Wan said innocently. He knew perfectly well, although Anakin always named every reason but the truth when they had this conversation, and they’d had this conversation many times. 

“They’re _Darksiders_ ,” Anakin said as if he thought Obi-Wan might be mentally deficient or perhaps unaware of that fact. _They make us look bad_ , Obi-Wan translated, and fought not to roll his eyes. As if other Lineages didn’t also have a few less than reputable members among their number. At least Bruck and Xanatos had seen the error of their ways before they went full Sith and tried to take over the galaxy. Dooku had no excuse, but Obi-Wan wasn’t certain his Padawan knew about Dooku’s return to the Temple yet, although Bruck and Xanatos had likely mentioned it.

“And?” Obi-Wan asked leadingly, and Anakin huffed again, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did they not lavish you with enough attention as a child? Not bring you enough sweets?” he teased. In truth, Bruck had been incredibly attentive at first, excited to have a ‘little cousin’ and remembering how hard it was to be an outsider in the Temple as a child. Of course, Anakin had disdained both Xanatos and Bruck from the start. They had taken up far too much of his Master’s time, in Anakin’s opinion. Still did, and Obi-Wan with infinite patience would simply run himself a bit more ragged to ensure he spent equal time with all of them, mediating their disagreements and trying to foster goodwill among them. 

“You know that isn’t it,” Anakin pouted. “They make you look bad Master,” he reiterated earnestly. “You’re the _Sith-killer_ , you shouldn’t have to put up with the things people say about you because of them.”

“I’d much rather be known for forgiveness and compassion than swordsmanship, thank you,” Obi-Wan said dryly. “Anyway, they’re staying for dinner, and Grandmasters Dooku and Yoda will be joining us.” Anakin groaned wordlessly at that, and trudged ahead, displeasure writ in every line of his lanky form. He didn’t question Dooku’s presence though, which meant he had known the Count had returned to the Temple. 

Obi-Wan held in a sigh, glad at least that Anakin had made it back inside the Temple before having such a display of poor manners. Hopefully he’d been better behaved for Senator Amidala, although Obi-Wan wasn’t too optimistic. _You’ve grown more beautiful... for a Senator, I mean_ , really was the boy daft? Obi-Wan had better polite small talk by the time he was fourteen. They’d have to work on that.

“This is the boy then,” Dooku greeted when he arrived for dinner, looking down his rather long nose at Anakin, who wasn’t quite as tall as Dooku (yet). “Hopefully he’ll learn a little more of your caution dear one.” Obi-Wan sighed. Anakin scowled, shooting a glare across at Obi-Wan. 

“Is it pick on Anakin day or something?” Anakin groused. 

“Didn’t you get the memo?” Bruck sniped as he swept in, crossing to hug Obi-Wan and kiss him on the cheek. “I missed you Nobes.”

“Mmmm,” Obi-Wan hummed through pressed-thin lips. “Missed you too, like a nasty rash.” Bruck grinned broadly at that, and squeezed Obi-Wan enthusiastically. 

“I _knew_ you liked me best,” Bruck exclaimed, and Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but smile slightly. Bruck might be an annoying, overdramatic shit, but he was Obi-Wan’s annoying overdramatic shit. 

“Only because you bring me such nice presents. I’d always wanted a Padawan learner,” Obi-Wan said with a dramatic flutter of his lashes, and Bruck giggle-snorted while Anakin huffed and crossed his arms. “Oh Anakin, you know we tease because we love you,” Obi-Wan said gently, rubbing his grumpy Padawan’s shoulder. 

“Attachment,” Dooku chided, and Xanatos, just entering with Yoda on his back, snickered. Anakin just glared at Dooku, clearly not understanding that he was being teased. They’d have to train him up in Dooku’s more restrained mannerisms, although he shared many with Xanatos. Obi-Wan knew he’d gained many of his own tics from Qui-Gon, and presumably Xanatos had too. It followed that Qui-Gon had gained those idiosyncrasies from Dooku, although their Grandmaster shared few commonalities with Yoda. A puzzle for another day.

“To the Dark side, attachment leads,” Yoda pitched in, and as always it was impossible to tell if he was teasing or deadly serious.

“And back again,” Obi-Wan riposted, leaning against Anakin. His Padawan was clearly still in a prickly mood though, because Anakin just _hmmmphd_ and slouched away from Obi-Wan. Bruck all but swooped in to tousle Obi-Wan’s hair, at which point Obi-Wan extricated himself to see if the tea was ready. This Lineage was tiring. When he finished training Anakin to Knighthood, Obi-Wan planned to take a few years off to spend hidden in a cave or something, just meditating and asking the Force what in creation he’d done to deserve this. 

“Hmmmm,” Yoda said noncommittally, and jumped down from Xanatos’ shoulder with an entirely unnecessary double layout. Obi-Wan managed to keep things from escalating by coming back in with the tea tray and placing it on the low table, kneeling gracefully to pour for his guests. He already knew how all of them took their tea, and fixed them in order of age, Yoda first, then Dooku, Xanatos, Bruck and Anakin, pouring for himself last as host. 

“Obey their mission parameters, this Lineage does not,” Yoda observed, having taken a long sip of his tea. He pursed his lips as if displeased, but Obi-Wan was pretty sure that glimmer in his eyes said Yoda was rather proud of that tendency in their Lineage.

“My mission was to protect the Senator, she wanted to go save Obi-Wan,” Anakin grumped huffily, leaving his tea where Obi-Wan had placed it on the table. He’d likely take two sips, then abandon it. More for Obi-Wan.

“While the thought is appreciated, I’m a little insulted she thought I needed rescuing,” Obi-Wan said bemusedly. “Even if Grandmaster hadn’t ensured our departure once I was willing to speak with him, I’m not _entirely_ helpless.”

“How many times have I had to save you Master?” Anakin blustered, and Obi-Wan sighed. 

“I did manage to reach 25 without your help Anakin,” Obi-Wan chided. “I appreciate that you’re protective of me, but this tendency of yours to rush in without a plan doesn’t tend to end well. For either of us.” 

“Your rescues don’t count if you have to be rescued yourself,” Xanatos said dryly, and sipped his tea. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he was scolding me and _my_ Padawan.” Bruck reached over, and Xanatos high-fived him with a long suffering sigh, well aware Bruck would get exponentially more obnoxious in trying to gain acknowledgment the more time passed without him being validated. Obi-Wan just hid his face in one of his hands.

“I don’t-” Anakin started.

“Durkteel,” Bruck cut in. 

“I Don’t-” Anakin began again.

“Bestine,” Xanatos pitched in. “We can go all night Padawan. Obi-Wan was capable of talking Bruck into line at fourteen, and stopped a civil war that same year with more than . I appreciate you care for him, we all do, but he _is_ quite capable. And glaring about like a nexu with a sore paw isn’t endearing.”

“Thanks, I think,” Obi-Wan murmured, and topped up Dooku’s cup. His grandmaster was looking far too amused. 

“It seems you have just as much _luck_ as Qui-Gon did,” Dooku said warmly, and Xanatos and Obi-Wan traded a look then laughed uproariously.

“Master Qui-Gon,” Anakin started, visibly bristling.

“My much loved Padawan could find a disaster in the empty void of space Skywalker, it is no denigration of his skill. He thrived on the chaos that developed around him, and willingly followed troublesome beasts back to their lairs,” Dooku reprimanded quellingly.

“Grandmaster,” Obi-Wan said gently, and Dooku huffed, waving him off. 

“No, I see now what this pup’s problem is - or part of it at least. Qui-Gon Jinn was many things young Padawan, but he was not infallible. No being is. You have been blessed to have Obi-Wan as your Master. I regret that you see more fault than virtue in his teachings, but if anything he has been far more understanding than Qui-Gon would have been. Obi-Wan all but raised himself, although we all did our best to provide the support he needed, and in the process he learned just what a Padawan needs in a Master, as he was given little guidance and less understanding by Qui-Gon. It is Obi-Wan’s own innate goodness that he speaks and thinks so fondly of my late Padawan.”

“Grandmaster,” Obi-Wan repeated in quiet distress, and Bruck gently squeezed his knee in silent support. 

“It’s true Obi,” Xanatos said gently. “I know you don’t like hearing it, but Master was broken after I left the Temple, and yes, he improved under your care, but half the reason I came back to the Order was that I could see that you and Bruck both needed more guidance, since there was no one to properly be your Masters.”

“Wise you have become, young Xanatos,” Yoda said with a distressed flick of his long ears. “Listening to Feemor you have been, hmmm?” Xanatos blushed, ducking his head in agreement. 

“How is my eldest grand-padawan?” Dooku asked, and they happily took the conversation down that welcome diversionary path. Obi-Wan rose quietly and brought out the food, listening as Xanatos and Dooku spoke of Feemor and various past missions. Again Obi-Wan noted their shared mannerisms; it was clear that Dooku had a much greater hand in the raising of Xanatos than he had in Obi-Wan’s training. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but wonder if Dooku had been as hurt by Xanatos’ Fall as Qui-Gon was.

The others stayed until late, drinking tea and chatting. Dooku and Xanatos began discussing a new opera that was getting rave reviews, while Bruck dragged Obi-Wan into a debate about ‘saber styles; like Obi-Wan, Bruck had specialised in Ataru as a Padawan, and they had oft engaged in showy acrobatic bouts in the training salles, pirouetting off the walls and generally exhausting anyone trying to watch them. After Qui-Gon’s death, Obi-Wan had switched almost wholly to Soresu. Bruck had maintained the Ataru style for some years, but more recently he’d begun mixing in more Djem So, the injuries accrued over his missions slowing him down. 

Anakin sulked quietly, biting out terse single word answers when Obi-Wan tried to draw him into conversation, then giving a thin excuse as soon as he’d finished eating, and disappearing out the door. Obi-Wan stared after him in silent consternation. Bruck squeezed his thigh, then leaned in and pulled Obi-Wan into a half hug. Obi-Wan sighed and leaned against his former creche-mate. He’d missed Anakin while his Padawan was gone, and given how eager the boy must have been to rescue him, Obi-Wan had thought they would spent the evening together. Sometimes, Obi-Wan just couldn’t understand Anakin, for all that he loved the boy.

“He’s just grumpy the rest of us are here, I’m sure he’ll be back soon, and if he isn’t I’ll hunt him down for you,” Bruck offered, and Obi-Wan nodded, resting his head on Bruck’s shoulder. “Sing us a song Master,” Bruck urged, and Xanatos scoffed fondly, then shifted on his low cushion, stretching his long legs out before him. He hummed a few bars, then sang out in his rich, low voice, an Alderaanian love song. 

It was a song Obi-Wan knew as well, a popular ballad that was sung often at Alderaanian functions. He hummed a quiet harmony beneath Xanatos, then began to sing along. Dooku smiled almost mischievously, and joined an octave below, his powerful bass reverberating through the small room. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile in response. Bruck sighed happily, hand rubbing warm circles against Obi-Wan’s back. 

“Something Serennoan,” Bruck demanded when they’d finished, and Xanatos shook his head. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know any Serennoan songs,” Xanatos admitted, looking to his grandmaster. Dooku sighed as if much put upon, then coughed once and began to sing.

“Oh, I like that,” Bruck murmured sleepily when Dooku finished. 

“Come on lazy bones, you can stay here tonight,” Obi-Wan said gently, standing slowly and helping Bruck up with him. “Come on, bedtime for brats.” Bruck chuckled sleepily, but let himself be fussed over and trundled into Obi-Wan’s bed. When Obi-Wan had tucked Bruck into the bed, he went back out to say goodnight to the others. Dooku offered his arm to Yoda, and the Grandmaster climbed onto his back with a quiet grumble. Xanatos kissed both of Obi-Wan’s cheeks, then walked out arm in arm with their Grandmaster, Yoda muttering at both of them. 

Obi-Wan went through his usual evening routine after sending a few messages to Anakin. There was no response, and Obi-Wan knew there was no point belabouring the issue. Anakin had definitely inherited the Lineage intransigence, and he would return only when he wished. Not best pleased with his Padawan but resolved not to let it ruin a lovely evening with the rest of his Lineage, Obi-Wan meditated, then crawled into bed with Bruck. 

Bruck promptly curled himself over Obi-Wan, blanketing Obi-Wan almost completely with his long, lean form. Even this close to unconsciousness, Bruck reached for Obi-Wan mentally as well as physically, wanting reassurance. Obi-Wan thinned his shields, brushing their minds together. Bruck made a soft sound of contentment, and Obi-Wan let the weight of Bruck’s exhaustion drag them both into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Alderaanian is Space Spanish, I'm going with Serenno being Space Venice, and Dooku probably sang something super operatic because he's a show off like that.
> 
> I am (slowly) working on writing a Geonosis rescue mission interlude but it's being uncooperative and won't impact the progression of this story, just be Xanatos and Bruck on an adventure to get Anakin and Padme.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan hooks up with Mace and philosophizes on love, a many splendoured thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note the relationship tags have changed to reflect this chapter, but the rating hasn't gone up. i thought about including heavier smut, but it didn't really fit, so eventually there will be some porny side stories, but not in this main thread. also i make up jedi philosophy on love wholesale, and probably influenced by other fanworks.

“Considered your request we have,” Yoda said thoughtfully. “Agreed we are. Into the deaths of Padawan Darsha Assant and Battlemaster Anoon Bondara, and the movements of the Zabrak Maul you shall look. May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi.” 

“Thank you Masters, and also with you,” Obi-Wan said, bowing politely as he accepted his requested assignment. In truth, he’d already begun quietly rereading his own notes and harassing Judicial for the official files since Dooku had mentioned that Darsha and Master Bondara had been victims of Maul. Excusing himself from the Council chamber, Obi-Wan went directly to the library and used the increased access of an active investigator to secure copies of everything he had previously been restricted from viewing on the case.

Returning to his apartment with his material, Obi-Wan buried himself in his new assignment, not surfacing until the incessant shrilling of the door chime jerked him awake the following evening. Blinking blearily, Obi-Wan rubbed absently at his cheek, which had been pressed against the datapad covered coffee table, as he waved the door open. He yawned widely, then flushed as he registered the identity of his guest.

“‘Llo Master Windu,” Obi-Wan murmured, dropping his eyes to the floor as his cheeks pinked in embarrassment. How was it that he never looked like a proper Jedi when Mace decided to come by? The Councillor probably thought he was an unmitigated disaster.

“You fell asleep on your ‘pad again, didn’t you? And it’s Mace,” Mace gently reminded, pushing his way into the apartment and looking about appraisingly. Small touches let him know Obi-Wan hadn’t been totally alone, although he doubted Obi-Wan had even registered his company. But there was a regiment of mugs and teacups crowded near the pile of datapads Obi-Wan had clearly been perusing, and a crumpled blanket on the floor where he had been kneeling. 

Mace assumed Chun or du Crion had been watching over Obi-Wan and bringing him caffeine, as their presences were layered throughout the space. Mace might not especially like either of them, but he did appreciate their care for Obi-Wan. It also drew the question of Skywalker’s absence. While Mace liked Skywalker only marginally better than du Crion and Chun, the Padawan did ably coerce Obi-Wan into regular meals and sleeping a reasonable amount when he was home.

“Maybe,” Obi-Wan murmured with a shifty look. Mace sighed. 

“I was going to see if you wanted to spar, but I think you need a meal and a good night’s rest more. Wash up, you’re eating at mine tonight,” Mace directed. It was a mark of just how out of it Obi-Wan was that he simply nodded and headed towards the ‘fresher, shedding belt, tabards, and tunics as he shuffled off. Mace let himself admire the lithe muscle of Obi-Wan’s back for a moment, then resolutely began tidying up. Obi-Wan might give every indication of being interested, but he also flirted with anything with a pulse, and Mace would feel the power differential in their positions far too much if he made the first move.

When Obi-Wan returned, he looked slightly more awake, his hair neatly combed and beard groomed. He was also barefoot, and had only bothered with his innermost tunic - no, it was too large to truly be Obi-Wan’s. It had likely belonged to Jinn given how loose it hung around Obi-Wan’s lithe form, and was worn thin with years of use. The v-neck extended far lower than was strictly regulation, exposing the sweep of Obi-Wan’s collarbones and the valley of his sternum between pectoral muscles, and the sleeves had been completely removed, baring Obi-Wan’s arms. 

Mace swallowed thickly, wondering if Obi-Wan realized what he looked like dressed like that, the soft cream fabric nearly sheer, showing the shadow of auburn hair on his chest and so thin it clung to his defined musculature despite being rather loose. Mace was half convinced it was actually Obi-Wan’s sleep tunic, and the mental image of Obi-Wan sleep-mussed as he had been earlier, his thin tunic wrinkled and rucked up around his hips, legs bared, was almost too much.

“Shoes?” Mace asked, and Obi-Wan looked down at his own feet as if they’d betrayed him. Mace shook his head as Obi-Wan retreated, shortly returning wearing a pair of soft looking Temple slippers. “Have you left your apartment at all since you came before the Council?” Mace asked as he led Obi-Wan through the corridors. 

“Mmm, don’t think so,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully. “Lots of reading to do.” 

“Please don’t run yourself into the ground,” Mace requested. “I don’t want your pet Darksiders up my ass about your workload again.” Obi-Wan _hmmphd_ but said nothing. They were both well aware that Mace had more than once been trailed through the Temple by either a shouting Bruck or a prissily disapproving Xanatos when Obi-Wan was either hurt or overtired. Mace had a feeling that Dooku would be even worse.

By the time they reached Mace’s apartments, they had struck up comfortable if desultory conversation. Obi-Wan followed Mace into the kitchen, and ended up perched on his counter, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea while Mace prepared late-meal. Rice and a hearty Korun dish Obi-Wan didn’t know the name of, rich with legumes and nuts and dried fruits in a spiced sauce. Obi-Wan realized as he tucked in just how hungry he had been, meaning it had probably been at least a day since his last proper meal. 

“Hungry?” Mace teased, and Obi-Wan flushed with his fingers in his mouth, looking guilelessly up at Mace as if he hadn’t just been caught licking sauce from his fingers like a mannerless barve. 

“It’s good?” Obi-Wan offered, lowering his hand guiltily. 

“That a question or a compliment Obi-Wan?” Mace asked, and Obi-Wan was certain if he flushed any hotter his cheeks would simply burst into flame. 

“Shut up,” Obi-Wan murmured, dropping his eyes and fussing with his plate. The lowering of his gaze meant he missed Mace’s eyes going soft, his mouth curling into an affectionate smile.

“Eat, then you’re going to bed,” Mace directed firmly but gently, and Obi-Wan nodded and complied. By the time Obi-Wan finished, he was hiding yawns in his hand. Mace just sighed and bundled him into the bedroom, settling on the side of the bed as Obi-Wan curled up without protest. Mace tugged off his boots and stripped for bed, then padded into the ‘fresher to wash up. 

“Am I in your bed?” Obi-Wan asked sleepily when the mattress dipped down beside him. 

“Yes, now shut up and sleep,” Mace said gently, and Obi-Wan huffed, then pressed his face into the firm muscle of Mace’s chest and hugged him about the waist. 

“Hoped I’d be more awake the first time I got you in bed,” Obi-Wan murmured, brain to mouth filter nonfunctional due to exhaustion. 

“Kark,” Mace breathed, then closed his eyes and forced himself not to think about it as they dropped off to sleep.

“Did I have my belt when I arrived?” Obi-Wan asked confusedly the next morning as he sauntered out of the ‘fresher patting at his narrow waist, then looking up at Mace. Mace bit his lower lip and shook his head, certain Obi-Wan could see the laughter in his eyes. “I’m a bit of a mess, sorry,” Obi-Wan said almost shyly, ducking his head, and Mace reached out slowly, cupping Obi-Wan’s chin and gently urging him to look up. Obi-Wan obliged, and Mace couldn’t help but smile. 

“I’m more than pleased you feel you can relax around me Obi-Wan,” Mace said, his voice dropping into a lower register as his thumb idly brushed over the curve of Obi-Wan’s lower lip. Obi-Wan licked his lips, eyes slowly widening. 

“Oh,” Obi-Wan breathed, and stepped closer, definitively inside Mace’s personal space. Hesitantly Obi-Wan slid his hands up Mace’s firm torso, twisting his fingers into the loose material of Mace’s tabards. “This - would this be too presumptuous of me?” Obi-Wan asked, and leaned up, so they shared air between nearly touching mouths.

“Not nearly presumptuous enough,” Mace growled, leaning in to nudge their noses together, and then Obi-Wan’s lips were on his, the barest brush of soft skin accompanied by a tickle of Obi-Wan’s beard against Mace’s chin. Mace kissed back, but Obi-Wan’s kisses were so fleeting they barely connected, just breaths of a touch, a sweet inhale and soft sighing gasps. Mace growled and tugged Obi-Wan close, kissing him firmly. Obi-Wan moaned softly, opening almost instantly to Mace.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan murmured, looking up with gleaming eyes and kiss slicked mouth when they parted. 

“Yes,” Mace agreed, and kissed him again. 

“Oh, this is going to be _fun_ ,” Obi-Wan all but purred, and Mace narrowed his eyes. Obi-Wan let out a delighted little laugh, leaning up to kiss Mace sweetly. “I won’t tease you Mace, I want this too much, want _you_ too much for teasing. That doesn’t mean I can’t amuse myself by teasing the rest of the Order though.”

“You are such a little shit,” Mace murmured fondly, and kissed Obi-Wan again. Obi-Wan smiled against Mace’s mouth, then returned his kiss with fervour, working his hands beneath the layers of Mace’s clothing to stroke warm skin, earning another little growl. “We don’t have time for that,” Mace chided when they parted to breathe, resting his forehead against Obi-Wan’s. “I want a few uninterrupted hours to learn you properly.” Obi-Wan moaned at that, but nodded.

“When will I see you again?” Obi-Wan asked, stepping back and righting his tunic. 

“I was planning to see if you wanted to spar tonight, and no I don’t mean that as a euphemism,” Mace said with a sly smile. “I enjoy getting you sweaty any way I can. Would you be comfortable spending the night?”

“I presume you mean to feed me somewhere in there?” Obi-Wan teased, and Mace’s smile widened as he dipped his head in affirmation. “I could be convinced, although it’s likely you’ll have to excavate me out from beneath my research again,” Obi-Wan said with a rueful smile. 

“I was anticipating that,” Mace said drily. “I’ll see you tonight then,” he said, his voice dropping again with promise. He crowded close to Obi-Wan and kissed him thoroughly, then swept from the room with a smug look on his face. Obi-Wan stared after him dazedly for a moment before realizing he was standing in the middle of Mace’s quarters looking like a poleaxed eopie. 

“Kriffing _hells_ ,” Obi-Wan swore appreciatively to himself. He reached up and touched his mouth, flushing when he felt how puffy and spit-slicked his lips were. He moaned softly, closing his eyes and gathering his shattered composure. The occasional casual fuck with Quinlan had never made him feel like this, which was part of the reason they’d never moved past casual fucking. Kark. He was going to have to tell Quin they couldn’t have casual sex anymore. Unless Mace didn’t mind. Obi-Wan cocked his head, trying to imagine that conversation and not quite managing it. Shaking his head, Obi-Wan stepped into his shoes and sauntered off with a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, you decided to come home?” Anakin snarked as Obi-Wan entered the apartment, and Obi-Wan sighed, his good mood dimming somewhat. 

“Yes, and so did you evidently,” Obi-Wan noted, raising an eyebrow at his Padawan. “Are you going to tell me where you were?” Anakin shifted, his expression radiating guilt. “Let me guess - bothering Senator Amidala?”

“She wouldn’t let me in,” Anakin sulked, and Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose, counting to himself in Mando’a. “She wouldn’t even _speak_ to me.”

“She’s a rather busy woman,” Obi-Wan said quellingly. 

“She promised she would always care for me!” Anakin exploded, and Obi-Wan stepped back in shock. 

“And it’s entirely likely she does still care for you Anakin, but that does not entitle you to her time or her hospitality,” Obi-Wan said firmly but calmly, hoping to descalate the situation a little. “Did you really expect her to be awake at that hour of evening? When you’d no doubt given her no reason to anticipate your arrival? She is a Senator. She has her own duties and responsibilities that have absolutely nothing to do with you or whatever may have happened between you,” he said almost gently.

“She promised,” Anakin sulked, and Obi-Wan sighed, crossing to the kitchenette and putting on the kettle. This was going to take at least one cup of tea.

“That promise was made between two children,” Obi-Wan said gently. “And whether it is true or not, you barely know her and should have absolutely zero expectation of hospitality or goodwill after the debacle you were just delivered from. Both of you were safe on Naboo, and you’re well aware of my position regarding whether or not you should risk yourself or the life of a civilian on my behalf.” Anakin huffed, and Obi-Wan took a long sip of tea, wishing it was later in the day so he could have a glass of whisky without feeling like a terrible role model. 

“I _love_ her,” Anakin said, his voice rife with pain.

“You love the idea of her,” Obi-Wan said, keeping his tone gentle. “Love is not this blind adoration you exhibit Anakin. Love is clear eyed and open handed; love is ensuring her happiness even if that happiness comes from being apart from you.” Anakin scoffed, as he almost always did when Obi-Wan spoke of love and other emotions. Obi-Wan sighed, but said nothing. There was nothing he _could_ say that would convince Anakin. His Padawan had the intransigence and self-righteousness of their Lineage in spades.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan has more tea with the Chancellor, and more concerns about his Padawan. Also dinner with his boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Jedi philosophy - not my strong suit, because I am an ever-burning ball of rage, although I hide it well. Therefore my thoughts on the matter - voiced through Obi-Wan - are largely influenced by [this post I saw recently on tumblr](https://wrennette.tumblr.com/post/160496201920/poplitealqueen-gothiccharmschool) about rage and kindness in defiance of rage which - struck me as rather Jedi-ish? Because the Jedi see and experience a lot of shit situations, and it would be impossible (in my opinion) to not get mad about that. But Jedi aren't supposed to be angry because Darkside. So yeah. using anger to fuel compassion. that's my answer, for the moment.

“Ah, Master Kenobi, I’m so glad you could squeeze me in,” Palpatine said in that slightly too friendly way of his, rising from the massive desk as the protocol droid that had let Obi-Wan in retreated. He gestured at the seating area, and as Obi-Wan straightened from his bow he complied, settling in one of the luxe chairs that dotted the rich carpeting. This was the first time Obi-Wan had been in the Chancellor’s residence, and it made him distinctly uncomfortable. Everything was done in the finest of materials, in rich deep reds and sleek chrome. The rooms were under-lit, leaving strange shadows clinging to the walls and Obi-Wan on edge.

“I admit, you’ve piqued my interest,” Obi-Wan demurred, accepting a cup of tea. It smelled divine, a floral variety he recognized from Senator Amidala’s residence when they’d been her guards. A Naboo Lake Country blend, he thought, taking a small sip. Expensive, but not exorbitant, and likely not too unusual for well to do Nabooans who returned home with any frequency.

“Ah,” Palpatine said with a little smile. “It’s your Padawan you see,” he said. “I’m afraid I found him wandering about 500 Republica the other night and offered him refuge as he was - was quite distraught. Is he - is he quite well Master Kenobi? He is very well regarded on Naboo, and we watch his progress with great interest.” The hairs on the back of Obi-Wan’s neck prickled. Anakin had never exactly said where he’d spent the night after being rebuffed from Senator Amidala’s door. The reason made itself clear now. 

“You are too kind,” Obi-Wan temporalized, mind racing. What had Anakin told him? Why hadn’t Anakin mentioned he stayed with the Chancellor - no, that was a silly question. Anakin was well aware of Obi-Wan’s disdain for politicians in general and Palpatine in specific. “Anakin is in a difficult phase, I’m sure you know how teenagers are,” Obi-Wan said with an entirely false smile. “And with his recent captivity - well, confronting one’s mortality can be - difficult.”

“Ah,” Palpatine said, smiling and raising his eyebrows in invitation for Obi-Wan to continue. Obi-Wan merely took another sip of tea. He’d give the Chancellor as little as he could. “He seemed - quite angry,” Palpatine continued after the pause had drawn out uncomfortably long. “I was under the impression that Jedi - well, I’m sure I don’t understand it of course, but is anger not - proscribed? Forbidden?”

“It is forbidden we act on anger Chancellor, but we are only sentient beings after all. Anger is unavoidable; it is how we deal with our anger that makes us Jedi,” Obi-Wan said carefully, keeping his face and voice as serene as possible, even as his own anger sparked to life. How dare this - this _civilian_ try to tell him how Jedi thought, as if Obi-Wan wasn’t well aware of every minute nuance of the Code that guided his every breath. 

“Ah,” the Chancellor said, peering at Obi-Wan over his tea cup. “Good, I wouldn’t want the dear boy to be in trouble.” Obi-Wan bit back about twelve facetious comments on the theme of Obi-Wan not having to punish what he didn’t know of, and the Chancellor’s role in bringing Anakin’s transgressions to Obi-Wan’s attention. For a decade now, Obi-Wan had been the no fun disciplinarian in Anakin’s life. That likely wouldn’t change any time soon, but he could come up with more than enough reasons to scold Anakin on any given day without Palpatine’s assistance.

“Oh, there’s no trouble,” Obi-Wan said, just the tiniest hint of a threat in his placid tones, eyes gleaming in the dim light. Palpatine leaned back slightly, the slight smirk falling from his lips. Obi-Wan mentally tallied himself a point. 

“Good, good,” Palpatine murmured, steepling his fingers in front of his face. “I had hoped also to ask you about the situation on Kamino,” Palpatine said after another long pause, leaning forward again to pour himself a second cup of tea. Obi-Wan waved off the silent offer of more himself, sipping lightly from his now tepid cup. 

“I’m afraid that matter is in the capable hands of Master du Crion,” Obi-Wan said with false chagrin. They both knew that Xanatos utterly despised Palpatine, who had ‘mentored’ him during his brief reign as Governor of Telos and CEO of Offworld Mining. The relationship had soured quickly, Xanatos feeling as if he’d been manipulated, something he would never forgive. “He assures me though that things will soon be straightened out. After all, the Jedi would not and could not have ordered such a force, and the Republic has neither the need nor authorization to maintain a standing army.”

“Quite right, quite right,” Palpatine said quietly, although Obi-Wan could hear the faintest hint of strain in the politician’s voice. Was the man in favour of the Military Creation Act then? It had gained significant traction while Anakin and Senator Amidala were held on Geonosis, and Palpatine had managed to somehow sound like the Republic needed an army but he personally didn’t want the Republic to have an army. The rescue mission had thankfully retrieved Anakin and the Senator before the votes were cast, and Amidala had resolutely brought her somewhat weakened faction to bear against the measure. It had regained her a fair bit of her lost power in the legislature.

Conversation dragged on for a while longer, Palpatine fishing for information, and Obi-Wan deflecting as usual. It seemed somehow more sinister than their usual though, and Obi-Wan had to carefully control his reactions. The more time he spent with the Chancellor, the more discomfited he was, and he absolutely refused to show it. If there was something wrong, something harmful, he would figure it out as the Force willed, but he refused to give Palpatine the power over him that reacting in fear would indicate. So he would wait, and he would watch, and he would do his best to ensure that the Chancellor never again managed to get his Padawan alone.

What had they spoken of? Obi-Wan wondered as he retreated to the Temple. It ate at him, picked at his mind. It had been years since Anakin trusted him fully as a confidant; had he turned to Palpatine previously? The thought lingered at the back of Obi-Wan’s thoughts, souring his mood. What did Palpatine gain in succoring Anakin? Because Palpatine did little and less without benefitting from his actions. But Obi-Wan could see nothing that Anakin might give Palpatine, save perhaps tidbits of information on the Jedi Order. Even that though - Anakin was no highly placed Knight or Council Master. He was but a Padawan. How did gaining his trust and confidence benefit Palpatine? Obi-Wan sighed, setting the thought aside to be considered later. He would reach no conclusion at the moment. 

Checking his comm, he sent a message and then headed to the salles. As usual speaking with the Chancellor had given him some aggression to work through. By the time he reached the training areas, Anakin was waiting somewhat grumpily. Obi-Wan trained a thread of the Force on his Padawan. Anakin was unsettled, but not too much more than usual. That constant low level disgruntlement was something they’d have to work on though. Dissatisfaction at the state of the galaxy was an almost universal constant among the Jedi, but Anakin hadn’t quite learned how to control that yet, rather than allowing his emotions to control him.

“Let’s work your jar’kai,” Obi-Wan suggested. “Your footwork has been getting a little rushed, so I want you to focus on that, since it’s even more important when you’re fighting double bladed.” Anakin grumped, but went to get a secondary ‘saber from the Battlemaster. “I want you going half speed at first, start with the Shii-Cho variations.” Anakin grumbled, but powered on both blades and settled into the first stance of Shii-Cho, the first lightsaber form taught to Jedi Initiates. 

“Slower,” Obi-Wan cautioned as Anakin passed through the fifth Shii-Cho stance. “Remember that you can’t put your full weight into a single move when you’re using jar’kai, you have to rely on agility and speed.” Anakin slowed down, frowning. Obi-Wan could feel his frustration. “Use that feeling, don’t let it rush you, but control it, use it to sense where you need to be,” he instructed. Anakin huffed, his frustration only increasing. “Easy,” Obi-Wan cautioned. 

“It doesn’t make sense,” Anakin exploded, turning to face Obi-Wan as he fell out of the stance. Frustrated anger rolled off him, drawing stares from the others using the salle. Obi-Wan sighed, then touched their training bond, drawing Anakin’s attention. 

“Do I feel angry?” Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin hesitated. 

“No?” Anakin ask-answered, feeling rather as if he were walking into a trap. Obi-Wan sighed, not sure how to explain this. He’d tried a half hundred different ways throughout Anakin’s apprenticeship, but somehow his eloquence always failed him on this. It probably didn’t help that Obi-Wan really was just constantly angry. 

“I am,” Obi-Wan said gently with a slight smile. “The trick is to hold your anger, but don’t grasp it tightly, just let it burn inside you, don’t act on it. Act on your thoughts rather than your feelings.”

“That makes absolutely no sense,” Anakin bit out. Obi-Wan sighed, and felt Anakin’s anger burn even brighter. 

“Come at me,” Obi-Wan said, removing his ‘saber from his belt. Anakin cocked an eyebrow, then grinned ferociously and launched himself forward, both blades sweeping down. Obi-Wan went to his knees, spinning under the blunt attack with raised blade. Anakin’s overhand swipe slid off the block, leaving him overbalanced. Obi-Wan’s blade flashed, searing against the backs of Anakin’s legs. 

“Kark! Master!” Anakin yelped, tumbling into an ungainly forward roll as Obi-Wan’s hit collapsed his knees. Pouting, he looked up in betrayal from the mats as Obi-Wan rose. 

“Didn’t I just say not to act on your frustrations?” Obi-Wan asked, eyebrow raised. “Let’s try that again.” Anakin huffed, clambering to his feet. He settled into the jar’kai variant of the Djem So opening pose, Obi-Wan extending his off hand forward as he readied his defenses. “Come at me,” Obi-Wan said with a smile, and Anakin snorted, pacing around to the left. 

“I’m not falling for that again,” Anakin huffed. Obi-Wan remained still, tracking Anakin by sound and Force rather than visually. 

“You know I won’t attack,” Obi-Wan cajoled. “You need to determine the balance between assertive action and aggression.” Anakin growled, then pounced. Obi-Wan barely moved as he deflected the sweeping attack, his stance solid. Anakin attacked again and again, frustration increasing with each deflected slash and blocked thrust. Sensing the dangerous ground they were treading, Obi-Wan switched into Ataru on the fly, deftly disarming his Padawan. “Take a lap, let it out, then come back,” Obi-Wan instructed coolly, and Anakin growled but complied, powering down his ‘sabers and setting out at a near sprint. 

While Anakin ran, Obi-Wan closed his eyes, reaching with the Force. The secondary ‘saber Anakin had been using settled into his palm, and he breathed out the heat of his own frustration, it was unneeded. Patience. Patience. He powered on the second blade and fell into the opening stance of the jar’kai variation of Soresu. When Anakin returned, he found Obi-Wan deep in the jar’kai Soresu forms, each step perfectly placed, motions flowing fluidly one into the next with no movement wasted. Obi-Wan felt as he ever did in the Force to Anakin, warm and calm and bright, and Anakin couldn’t understand Obi-Wan’s insistence that he was always angry. Nothing in that presence indicated anger or even frustration to him.

“Feeling better?” Obi-Wan asked, coming to a close and facing Anakin. Anakin nodded sulkily, an obvious lie. Obi-Wan sighed. Something was clearly bothering Anakin, but Obi-Wan had never felt comfortable pressuring is Padawan to talk. He would wait, and hope. Perhaps this time Anakin would come to him for guidance. “Come on,” Obi-Wan said. “Go change, I’ll meet you in quarters, unless you have other obligations?” Anakin shook his head and shuffled off grumpily. “That boy,” Obi-Wan murmured with fond exasperation. Obi-Wan returned the spare ‘saber, then went through the open hand forms for Ataru at double speed, exercising the last of his own frustration down to acceptable levels. 

“Do you have homework?” Obi-Wan asked when he returned to the apartment, finding Anakin tapping at a puzzle game. 

“Finished before I came to spar,” Anakin said. “I’m going to read ahead,” he stated, rising. 

“I’d like us to meditate together,” Obi-Wan suggested, and Anakin visibly wavered, then shook his head. 

“I did that earlier,” Anakin dismissed. “There’s a lot of reading for my Systems Analysis class.” 

“Very well, I’ll call you when the food is ready. Mace might join us,” Obi-Wan warned, going to check their cold store. 

“Ugh,” Anakin said under his breath. Obi-Wan ignored it. He disliked the antipathy between this lover and his Padawan but he wasn’t going to choose between them either, he refused to put one ahead of the other. They were both important to him, if in different ways. This, Obi-Wan knew, was at the root of the problems in his relationship with his Padawan, his refusal to put Anakin above all others. Obi-Wan had always ensured that Anakin had the attention he needed, but he had never done so at the cost of his relationships with his friends or Xanatos or Bruck, and he knew Anakin resented that. 

To do otherwise though, would be to go against who Obi-Wan was. He loved all of his friends and family, and dismissing the others in favour of Anakin would help no one. His beloved, demanding Padawan had to come to terms with the fact that Chosen One or not, the universe didn’t revolve around him. Obi-Wan cooked on autopilot, and was still trying to figure out how to make sense of things for Anakin when Mace arrived, greeting him with a warm embrace and warmer kiss as the door slid shut. Obi-Wan hummed happily into the intimacy, kissing back readily.

“Ugh,” Anakin greeted, walking out of his room, seeing them kissing, and immediately turning to retreat. 

“Oh come on,” Obi-Wan laughed, gesturing Mace toward the table. “I told you we were dating, do you expect me _not_ to kiss my lover?” Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin pulled a face that aptly illustrated his disgust. 

“I honestly don’t even want to _think_ about it,” Anakin grouched.

“Too bad,” Mace said with a slight smirk, and Obi-Wan shot him a long suffering look. Mace only smirked more widely in response, then pressed a quick kiss under Obi-Wan’s jaw. Anakin visibly grimaced.

“Ugh,” Obi-Wan said, throwing up his hands. “I don’t know why I put up with either of you.”

“Because you love us,” Mace said, smiling.

“I could love you from a greater distance,” Obi-Wan threatened heatlessly. “Stop being a prick and play nice. That goes for both of you.” Mace nodded, settling at the table. Despite his agreement though, late-meal was tense and quiet, the conversation desultory at best. Obi-Wan tried to make the two most important people in his life play nice with one another, and when it failed, sighed and hoped it would simply be a matter of time. Anakin was obviously annoyed by Mace’s mere presence, and Mace clearly found that annoyance highly amusing, which only irritated Anakin further. 

“I’m going to finish my reading,” Anakin announced as soon as he’d inhaled two massive portions of the meal, and clattered off to his room before Obi-Wan could voice a protest. 

“Well, you’re certainly good for his scholarly diligence,” Obi-Wan mused, staring after his Padawan. 

“You can’t expect him to like me on such short notice,” Mace said wryly. “He’s only ever seen me as the face of a Council he despises.”

“Well, you could make a little more effort not to antagonize him,” Obi-Wan observed with an expectant look.

“But it’s so much fun,” Mace teased, and Obi-Wan shook his head with a poorly hidden smile. 

“You’re such a dick,” Obi-Wan sighed. 

“You love it,” Mace said huskily. 

“Your dick? Well, yes. The rest of you isn’t too bad either,” Obi-Wan said, rounding the table to plant himself in Mace’s lap and kiss him thoroughly. “Smug bastard.” Mace laughed softly, kneading Obi-Wan’s buttocks through his clothing. “Uh-uh, we’re not having sex with Anakin in the other room,” Obi-Wan warned.

“Mmm, you’ve foiled my nefarious plot,” Mace murmured, mouthing along the line of Obi-Wan’s jaw. “I take it I can’t convince you to come back to mine, either?”

“Not tonight,” Obi-Wan said, then rose and carried their dishes through to the kitchen. Mace rose and followed, opening the tap and taking the plates. 

“What’s troubling you?” Mace asked, beginning to wash up. 

“You know the Chancellor called me in earlier?” Obi-Wan asked, and Mace nodded. “He said Anakin stayed with him the other night after he got back from Geonosis. He - he was implying - I don’t know, it doesn’t make sense. It was like - like he was trying to get Anakin in trouble with me for being angry.” He shook his head. 

“I just - I don’t think he really understands the slightest thing about the Jedi,” Obi-Wan said somewhat bemusedly. “We’re some of the consistently angriest people I’ve ever met. We just - we channel that rage differently. Instead of acting directly on anger, we transform it into kindness and compassion, and I don’t think he realizes that’s even an option. It was like he was expecting me to fly into a rage there in his parlour, or go off on a diatribe about how disappointing it was that Anakin was, you know - a human being with at least three feelings.” Mace chuckled softly.

“That’s certainly one way of putting it,” Mace admitted.

“It’s true though,” Obi-Wan insisted. “I can’t remember a day in my life after the age of about four when I wasn’t just incandescently mad about the state of the universe. There’s this everburning flame of anger in me at the injustices that are perpetrated on so many worlds, and yes, I’ve learned not to attack in anger or let it guide my tongue. But the idea of not - not being angry, not acting on that anger with compassion - it’s abhorrent. And - and it’s clear I haven’t been able to make that make sense for Anakin either. I - I don’t want him going alone to the Chancellor’s again, Mace. There’s - I don’t know. There’s something more than my usual distrust of politicians, although I can’t put my finger on _what_. Although I guess that’s just more fuel for the fire at this point.”

Pouring two mugs of tea, Obi-Wan led the way back to the front room. Mace settled at his side, and they sipped in silence for a while before Obi-Wan simply sighed and leaned into Mace’s side, his head against Mace’s shoulder. Mace wrapped his arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulder, squeezing gently, then letting his hand dip lower, rubbing down Obi-Wan’s back. 

“You’re going to pull something walking around with all this tension,” Mace chided, feeling the strain in Obi-Wan’s back, and Obi-Wan grumbled wordlessly. Mace snorted and set down his tea, turning and gently shifting Obi-Wan. He rubbed his hands over Obi-Wan’s shoulders, then began to knead. “Tunic off,” Mace ordered, and Obi-Wan complied, undoing his belt and shrugging out of his tabards and tunics. “I think your knots have knots,” Mace teased, and set about working the tension from Obi-Wan’s back. 

“Oh kriff,” Obi-Wan groaned deeply as Mace attacked one of the tense areas near his spine. He arched his back, half trying to escape, half trying to get more. 

“Easy now,” Mace gentled. “You needed this huh?” 

“Harder,” Obi-Wan demanded in a low moan as Mace’s strong hands worked out a particularly stubborn knot. A door slammed, and Obi-Wan groaned, leaning forward to hide his face in his hands. Mace laughed softly. 

“You should have seen his face,” Mace chuckled. “I think he half expected to find me balls-deep inside you.” 

“Ass,” Obi-Wan murmured fondly, melting under Mace’s insistent touch. 

“Your ass,” Mace returned in kind, leaning forward to kiss the knob of Obi-Wan’s spine. Obi-Wan made a sound that might have been affirmation, but might have been simple pleasure, and let Mace finish massaging his back before sending him away for the night. It would balance out, Obi-Wan told himself as he drifted toward sleep. It had to. He wasn’t going to give up on Anakin, but he wasn’t giving up his relationship with Mace either.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mace has a surprisingly nice dinner with the Lineage, and Obi-Wan scolds people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm also posting a side story today, [last night's flame](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917531) that is a Mace/Obi-Wan pwp interlude.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you by speaking so of Qui-Gon when last we met,” Dooku said when Obi-Wan next visited. It had been a few weeks since the late-meal shared with the others of their Lineage, Dooku having gone to Kamino shortly after that with Xanatos as his chaperone. The visit had netted a great deal of information about the clones though, which was now occupying much of Dooku and Xanatos’ time being carefully read through. 

The High Council had already contacted the Kaminoans to have the rapid aging turned off in all the clones, and the war training put on hold, since there was not yet a war to fight, and there was still hope that conflict could be avoided. Dooku was currently advocating for small groups of clones to be brought to the Temple and educated. He hadn’t had any success so far, although he had managed to secure a contingent of Jedi from the EduCorps for deployment on Kamino to teach the clones about things outside survival methods and military tactics, and a Jedi Healer with MedCorps support to give them physical assessments not linked to suitability for combat. 

“But it needed to be said. It was clear that boy had been holding the mythical Maverick Jedi and all he would have done differently over your head for years. His lack of respect for you as his Master is astounding. No discipline whatsoever,” Dooku continued. Obi-Wan sighed, squeezing Dooku’s hand. 

“It did hurt, but there is nothing to forgive,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “You’re right, it did need to be said. As to discipline - if you have a suggestion I would welcome hearing it. Quiet contemplation or discussing his misdeeds only stokes Anakin’s anger and resentment. Combat training isn’t a punishment to him, and denying combat training as punishment would be - wrong. Just - wrong. The nearest I’ve come up with is putting him on restriction and having him run the ziggurat and towers, but I can never actually keep him to quarters on restriction, and he sulks so much it’s a punishment for me as well. And running the ziggurat doesn’t really encourage the contemplation of ones mistakes.”

“How did Qui-Gon discipline you?” Dooku asked, curious. Obi-Wan flushed, looking away. 

“He rarely had to,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Bruck called me ‘Perfect Padawan’ when he returned to the Temple, and he wasn’t far off the mark in retrospect, at least outwardly. I felt anything but at the time, constantly angry, over-eager to please. If I had the slightest hint of Master’s displeasure or disappointment, I would do everything in my power to ameliorate the cause of his dissatisfaction.”

“Dear child,” Dooku chided gently, and pulled Obi-Wan into his lap for a warm hug. “You deserved so much more than my dear Padawan was capable of giving you, and you’ve become such a Jedi in spite of him. You do your Lineage so very proud.” Obi-Wan’s cheeks felt so hot he was amazed he didn’t spontaneously combust, and joy welled warm and bright in his chest. 

“Grandmaster,” Obi-Wan discouraged, and was quietly hushed for his trouble, Dooku’s thin fingers carding gently through his hair. 

“Such a brave Knight,” Dooku murmured, and kissed the crown of Obi-Wan’s head. “And you wonder why we set aside our paths toward power when we speak with you. You’ve enough humility and compassion for any three other Jedi.”

“I’m not so special as that,” Obi-Wan persisted, although he noticeably didn’t remove himself from his grandmaster’s warm embrace. “You only needed to be heard.” Dooku sighed, but understood he wouldn’t be able to convince Obi-Wan just how wonderful he was, so he simply hugged him tighter. Obi-Wan permitted it, and shortly dozed off, head tucked gently against Dooku’s broad shoulder. 

“Tired he is,” Yoda observed quietly when he came in to find Obi-Wan laid out on the sofa, Dooku’s over-robe tucked neatly around him, Obi-Wan’s head pillowed on Dooku’s lap. Dooku hummed in soft agreement, his fingers still carding idly through Obi-Wan’s hair as he perused the holobook Obi-Wan had brought him.

“Much is expected of him, most by himself,” Dooku said gently, then set aside the holobook. “He may have saved Qui-Gon Master, and I am ever grateful for that, and to have such a legacy for our Lineage, but was the cost truly worthwhile?” Yoda’s ears dropped as he shuffled over, peering up at Obi-Wan. 

“A better Master for Obi-Wan would you have been?” Yoda challenged. Dooku sighed. 

“Irrelevant. As you well know, I was Komari’s Master then, for all the good it did either of us,” Dooku sighed. Could she have been saved? Dooku wondered. If she had met Obi-Wan, would his unwavering compassion have reached out to her as well? Helped draw her back to the Light? Her Fall baffled him, but then, while he was oft accused of arrogance, he had never understood her desire for a man more than twice her age. He had loved her, but in a paternal fashion, and her insistence that they were meant to be lovers had repulsed and confused him.

“Hmmmm,” Yoda observed, but said nothing further, trundling on into the kitchen to put on water for tea. His Master, Dooku thought fondly, was an irritating little troll. It was no wonder their Lineage was full of Darksiders. Yoda at his inscrutable best could drive anyone into the arms of the Sith. Dooku smiled behind his beard, then frowned at the quiet chirp of a comm. Gently, he pilfered the device out of Obi-Wan’s utility belt and thumbed the controls to see who it was, then smirked. 

“Your Master of the Order is asking Obi-Wan to late-meal,” Dooku called quietly, and Yoda chuckled. 

“Already in Master Windu’s bed, your grandpadawan has been,” Yoda informed Dooku, who blinked in surprise. 

“Well, at least they’re discreet,” Dooku sighed. 

“Warned Mace I have, that break his legs I will, if Obi-Wan he hurts,” Yoda said fiercely, and Dooku laughed quietly. 

“Attachment,” Dooku chided, and Yoda cackled, ears twitching with amusement. “Shall I answer for him?”

“Hmmmm, come here for late-meal with the three of us, Mace should,” Yoda determined. “More threats I have.” Dooku chortled, but complied, responding on Obi-Wan’s behalf that Mace would be expected at Yoda’s within the hour. Obi-Wan woke as Mace was arriving, the Councillor’s face softening when he saw Obi-Wan curled up on the sofa with his head in Dooku’s lap. 

“Grandmaster?” Obi-Wan asked sleepily, and Dooku propped him up gently. Obi-Wan mumbled unhappily and promptly buried his face in Dooku’s shoulder, attempting to go back to sleep. 

“I thought you would want to see Mace?” Dooku teased, and Obi-Wan blinked, then blinked again before turning slowly to see Mace watching with both eyebrows raised in silent amusement. 

“This Lineage is the worst,” Obi-Wan groaned, and Mace laughed delightedly, shaking his hands out of his sleeves and gathering Obi-Wan into a hug. “Mmm, no teasing,” Obi-Wan whinged, nuzzling against Mace’s chest. 

“Not a word,” Mace promised, enchanted by Obi-Wan’s open affection. While they had been circumspect as they explored this development in their relationship, Mace was pleased that Obi-Wan had people with whom he felt comfortable sharing the deepening of their bond. Yoda entered from the kitchen, floating a massive tray before him. Obi-Wan went to help without being compelled, bearing the tray easily to the low table and kneeling to serve the Masters. 

Mace folded himself down at Obi-Wan’s side, gently brushing a hand against the small of his back. Obi-Wan glanced over with a smile, and they were soon settled into a friendly conversation. Mace was surprised to find how much he enjoyed conversing with Dooku, although he supposed it wasn’t too much of a shock. Yoda had been Mace’s mentor when he was raised to the Council so young, feeling as if he barely knew anything. Dooku had long been a Knight and Master by then, and Mace had first known him as a learned senior colleague, rather than a member of Yoda’s Lineage.

“And how is young Skywalker doing?” Mace asked as they ate, if only out of politeness. Obi-Wan sighed though. He and Mace had already had a careful discussion about which topics they were comfortable discussing, and decided that they wanted no secrets from one another that duty didn’t demand. But Obi-Wan also knew that none of the other Jedi in the room were advocates for Anakin’s training to Knighthood.

“Attending classes while we’re in Temple, but sulking,” Obi-Wan admitted. “He’s upset that he’s on restriction, that I’m conducting the investigation largely without him, and that he’s been pulled from Amidala’s detail. I think if he realized Bruck was her guard now he’s go apoplectic,” he said ruefully. “I don’t know what else to do. He can’t separate his desire for Amidala from his duty. I understand that he needed the test, and that he needs to learn how to let go, but he’s still very much a child in some ways. I was just as bad at 19, if you care to remember.”

“Hmmm,” Yoda said unhelpfully. Obi-Wan sent his great-grandmaster a flat look. They all knew that if at that age he’d been alone unsupervised with the woman he’d thought the love of his life, he’d have left the Order at a single word. Thankfully, Satine had been too honourable and bound to her own duties, and Qui-Gon had been a diligent chaperone. He would have regretted it, Obi-Wan thought. He was meant to be a Jedi, and leaving the Order would have destroyed him. But at 19, who knew that sort of thing? Your brain was swimming in hormones, and rationality was the last option.

“I wouldn’t mind giving the boy some training while you’re out of the Temple investigating,” Dooku said, his voice ominously low. 

“One, he has a name, it’s Anakin,” Obi-Wan said quellingly. “Two, investigating would go a lot more quickly if you’d tell us who the karking Sith Lord is, and three, thank you, that would be quite a relief to know he’s somewhat supervised outside of class.” Mace snorted softly, and Dooku smiled, reaching out to cup Obi-Wan’s cheek. 

“As you wish it dear one,” Dooku said, and Obi-Wan smiled at him across the table. Noting that once again his grandmaster had avoided the topic of his erstwhile Master, Obi-Wan smiled slightly. Diversion was evidently another Lineage trait. 

“I know you’re not Anakin’s biggest fans,” Obi-Wan said gently, looking at first his lover, then his Grandmaster. “But he _is_ my Padawan. And maybe I haven’t trained him very well, but he has accomplished so much, with so little of the foundation that his other instructors expect due to their students being raised in the Temple. He simply doesn’t have the mental and emotional training other Padawans do, and I’ve done my best to remediate that, but I would remind you that teenagers are not - they’re not a terribly logical bunch, and when he’s told he needs to learn, he gets upset that he doesn’t already know.”

“I stand by what I said the other night Obi-Wan,” Dooku said. “That -” he paused, sighed and dipped his head in acknowledgement of the mistake - “Anakin is Force-blessed to have you as his Master. You’ve done a magnificent job considering his late arrival to the Temple. You’re quite right that he became your Padawan at a disadvantage. I certainly wouldn’t have the patience to teach someone from the basics, and I doubt many others would either. There are pedagogical reasons the dedication age cut off is so young.”

“Yes, I’ve read quite a number of treatises on educational philosophies,” Obi-Wan said dryly. He remembered well those early days of Anakin’s training, the feeling that all the other Masters were silently judging him, staying up all hours of the night in case there was some unforeseen disaster and using those hours to read everything he could get his hands on about education, psychology, and child rearing. All the same, he felt more and more recently that he’d utterly failed his Padawan, and he had no idea how to fix it. Other things though - 

“Would you at least tell me _why_ you won’t give us a name,” Obi-Wan asked, taking a different track than he had previously, and Dooku sighed. 

“I - I have a strong suspicion,” Dooku said carefully. “I do _not_ have proof beyond verbal communications, and many of those interactions took place through a vocoder that scrambled both our voices beyond recognition. I have my word dear one, I have the assurances of the Force. But what use are those in a court of law? No, we need evidence. Solid facts that do not come from me. You cannot build a case on suspicion alone. You cannot prosecute an opinion. You need solid evidential proof, and I suspect this matter in any case will be resolved in the courts of public opinion, rather than by the Judicial branch or Jedi tribunal.”

“So you’ll give me no name at all?” Obi-Wan pushed. Dooku hesitated. 

“Sidious. He calls himself Sidious. I believe he killed his Master around the time of the Naboo Crisis.”

“And you’re certain this being is male?”

“As certain as I can be, which is admittedly not very,” Dooku sighed. “I do not mean to try your patience so, dear one.”

“I know Grandmaster,” Obi-Wan said with a slight smile. He rose and went to Dooku, gently hugging his shoulders and kissing his thinning hair. “I am frustrated it is true, but I know it is not your fault.” Dooku’s shoulders slumped, and he wrapped his arms firm but gentle around Obi-Wan’s waist.

“Thank you dear heart,” Dooku murmured. 

“Besides, I have noticed the favour you’ve done me in taking up some of Xanatos’ time,” Obi-Wan teased, and Dooku laughed softly.

“I should have helped more in _both_ your apprenticeships,” Dooku said leaning into Obi-Wan, who’d begun gently stroking his long white hair. “He’s a good man, if a bit misguided at times. I can’t fault him overmuch, he’s too like me I think - arrogant.”

“Not without reason,” Obi-Wan said with a smile. “Your pride is perhaps overweening, but it is not unwarranted.” Dooku chuckled at that. “I do not jest,” Obi-Wan affirmed. “I was almost as proud to be your grand-padawan as Master’s Padawan, despite that I had never met you. And Xanatos has made me proud to be his Padawan-brother so many times since he came home to us.” Dooku practically glowed with the praise.

They moved after a time to the sofa Yoda kept for visitors, Obi-Wan bookended by Mace and Dooku. Obi-Wan leaned into his grandmaster, sipping slowly at his after meal tea. Conversation was desultory, and Obi-Wan dozed against Dooku’s shoulder until Mace gently pulled him to his feet. Obi-Wan found himself steered out of Yoda’s quarters and into Mace’s bed, and murmured sleepily in compliance, then shucked his trousers and forced himself to kneel up and meditate for a little before burying himself in Mace’s blankets. He felt Mace’s psychic presence, and reached out tentatively, wondering if their relationship were intimate enough to warrant linked meditation. 

Mace opened to Obi-Wan easily though, and they meditated together for a while, basking in one another’s presences in the Force. When they shifted back to normal consciousness, Obi-Wan mentally tried to categorize Mace’s presence in the Force. Dooku still had that lightning storm sensation to Obi-Wan, although brighter now than he had been on Geonosis. Xanatos and Bruck were cloud swept moons, not as volatile, not as shadowed as Dooku in the Force. Mace though - there was Darkness in him too, but there was so much passion, so much warmth too. He was a hearth fire, Obi-Wan decided. Burning warm and bright and sometimes shadowed by smoke, but a powerful Light nonetheless.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan is beginning to realize that something about Palpatine is seriously twigging his 'bad feelings' detector, and adds an unexpected Fallen to his collection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter in this fic after this one, but i have a sequel and some side stories in the works, i just want to write more of them before i start posting so that i won't leave you hanging. thanks so much for coming on this journey with me, from an idea that turned into a post that blew up into this mess.

“Ah, Master Kenobi, just the Jedi I was hoping to see,” an all too familiar voice sounded, and Obi-Wan turned, managing not to roll his eyes as he bowed deeply to the Chancellor. His mind whirred, trying to think of ways to avoid a prolonged conversation. It had been a few days since he was trapped in the Chancellor’s residence for tea, and he was still trying to work out just what had unsettled him so much during that meeting, aside from his usual disdain for Palpatine.

“Your Excellency,” Obi-Wan greeted. He felt a burst of annoyance from Anakin at being overlooked, and quashed a sigh. Anakin was even more emotionally erratic than usual recently, and his usual insecurities hadn’t faded over the years despite his actions seeming shockingly arrogant of late; arrogance, in their Lineage especially, seemed to presage trouble. The Geonosis disaster and Anakin’s volatility since only worried Obi-Wan further. He might be a supposed Sith-whisperer, but that didn’t help with unruly Padawans, and all of the former Darksiders he associated with regularly visited the mind-healers, a service of which Anakin resolutely refused to make use.

“And young Skywalker, I’m so pleased to see you are well,” Palpatine said, and Obi-Wan tried not to visibly clench his jaw at the flare of validation that Anakin tried unsuccessfully to shield. “I am told the Jedi do not bargain for hostages, so I am glad you were able to effect an escape.”

“Master du Crion and Knight Chun came to retrieve us,” Anakin grit out, good mood dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. Evidently they hadn’t discussed this when Anakin sought refuge with the Chancellor immediately after their return from Geonosis, Obi-Wan noted with some surprise. Given Anakin’s displeasure, Obi-Wan had half expected him to rant at anyone who gave the faintest semblance of listening. 

Although Anakin was certain Palpatine was merely ignorant of the situation, the question felt like an attack to the Padawan. The Chancellor had always been polite to Anakin and Obi-Wan, but over the years Anakin had come to feel as though he were being condescended to. Palpatine spoke in the same rich Upper Coruscanti tones as Obi-Wan, and sometimes Anakin was certain they were having an entirely separate conversation over his head, a conversation that purposefully excluded him. It didn’t help that no one else in the Order seemed to like the Chancellor in the least, and as a result he rarely saw the man.

“Well that was kind of them,” Palpatine said with a slight tone of disbelief. Everyone knew, after all, that the du Crion - Chun team was decidedly _not_ nice. They were ruthless and effective, and were usually sent in as a last resort when collateral damage was no longer an issue. Them going on a discreet extraction mission and managing not to cause attention grabbing explosions was almost unheard of.

_(There had, in fact, been explosions, but the Geonosians were too embarrassed to publicise that. And frankly, Xanatos and Bruck went on a lot more stealth missions than the public realized. They just didn’t advertise it. They were very stealthy after all)_

“I had been hoping to ask you, Jedi Kenobi, how your investigation was going?” Palpatine asked. Obi-Wan managed not to startle, nor to freeze. He’d been being exceptionally careful not to tell _anyone_ outside the Temple just what he was researching, or that he was actively investigating _anything_. 

“Slowly,” Obi-Wan said with a bland smile, his mind racing. It was impossible to be entirely confidential of course. He had to access Judicial files through their database. But the Jedi had a secure Holonet connection that theoretically scrambled the identity of the investigator, especially since Jedi were often called in to expose corruption. It should have been impossible for the Chancellor to know that Obi-Wan was investigating anything. Nominally, Obi-Wan was on a Temple rotation to teach diplomatic etiquette and Soresu, and help Master Dooku reintegrate into the Order. 

“Ah, my condolences,” Palpatine said genially, his eyes glittering in a way Obi-Wan wanted to call malevolent. It was too strong of a word though, wasn’t it, Obi-Wan questioned himself. He didn’t like the man, but surely _malevolent_ was a step too far? Obi-Wan set it aside to be meditated on later. For the moment, he would need all his faculties honed on ensuring that his investigation was kept under wraps. 

“All is as the Force wills it,” Obi-Wan said mildly, ignoring Anakin’s choked noise of indignation at his shoulder. “Was there anything else Chancellor? I wouldn’t want to take up your valuable time.”

“On, no, nothing pressing,” Palpatine said, but Obi-Wan thought his smile looked a little forced, and showed a few too many teeth. Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he gave an elegant bow regardless.

“He was just being polite, why didn’t you tell him all the stuff you’ve found out about Maul?” Anakin asked huffily before they were even fully out of hearing range. Obi-Wan looked back at his Padawan, a single eyebrow raised. 

“And who have you been telling about Maul, hmmm?” Obi-Wan asked. “I believe I said that the investigation was strictly confidential, yes? Did I elaborate on any beings with whom you had authorization to share my progress?” 

“I - it was only Padme, she wanted to know why you were in the city so much,” Anakin pouted.

“And so you told her about a top secret investigation I was running over an open frequency? Or perhaps in her residence in a building in which it is notoriously impossible to keep secrets? Or perchance out in the open where _anyone_ might overhear?” Obi-Wan guessed, his tone mild but lilting lightly. Anakin knew his Master well enough to know when he was in deep poodoo if he was getting that sing-song recitation. “And when, during your restriction did you by chance come across Senator Amidala, or have access to a channel through which to contact her?” 

“Uh,” Anakin said eloquently, and then wisely shut his mouth. 

“I don’t keep things secret for my health Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed. “You know about the investigation because you’re assisting me on it as my Padawan, and because we live together. I don’t care how much you trust the Senator, nor how much you wish to impress her, but I hope this will be an elucidating lesson that perhaps your trust is misplaced, and that you definitely need to get over this crush. There’s no telling how far this might have spread, and if it reaches Sith ears even as a rumour, they will have the warning they need to cover their tracks. Senator Amidala is an excellent advocate for her people from what I’ve seen, but that does not make her any less a politician.”

“I - uh,” Anakin stammered, and Obi-Wan rubbed his hand over his face.

“It’s to her benefit, to the people of Naboo’s benefit, for her to be favoured by the Chancellor,” Obi-Wan reminded, then sighed. “Let’s go, I’ll need to report this to the Council.” Obi-Wan headed toward the speeder banks at a swift clip, robe billowing in his wake. Anakin didn’t need to lengthen his stride much to keep up, he was a half head taller than Obi-Wan, and tended to outpace him when he wasn’t paying attention. For the moment, he just kept up, wanting to defend Padme, and yet also seeing his Master’s position. Politics. Ugh.

“The Chancellor knows I’m looking into something, although I’m not sure he knows exactly what,” Obi-Wan said after letting himself into the Council chambers. The Councillors had stopped their conversation when he burst in, and stared at him with some measure of disbelief at the rather egregious breach of protocol. Such was utterly unlike Obi-Wan, illustrating just how unnerved he was by the situation.

“I’m sorry, what?” Agen Kolar finally asked, and Obi-Wan took a deep, centering breath. 

“As I’m on Temple rotation I’m on the Senate consultation list. It gives me a good excuse to pass through the dome and see if I can sense anything regarding our alleged Sith Lord. I was returning from mediating a minor dispute when we crossed paths with the Chancellor. He enquired after my investigation, but mentioned no details, so it is unclear how much he knows. My Padawan has informed me he has mentioned the case to Senator Amidala, although I did not ascertain at the time how much she knows on the matter,” Obi-Wan reported concisely.

“A grave allegation this is,” Yoda said, peering at Anakin, who shifted nervously in place. Anakin never liked facing the High Council, always feeling as if they were judging him and finding him wanting. It was even worse in cases like this, when he knew he’d disappointed his Master and done something ill thought through.

“I was just trying to apologize to her and explain to her all the important things we do,” Anakin said sulkily. “She already knows about Maul and the Sith.”

“You were trying to impress a young woman who has told you ‘no’ more than once,” Obi-Wan reprimanded, at the end of his rather lengthy store of patience regarding _that_ matter. Bruck had been more than happy to spill all the details about Anakin’s many and varied declarations of devotion to Padme Amidala during the Geonosis fiasco. “I have cautioned you since you became my Padawan that setting store by childish feelings was unwise. I do not want you hurt, my dear, and hurt is the only place that path leads. She is a Senator, her chief duty to her people. You have taken vows of obligation to the Jedi, and I had thought had designs on Knighthood, and the vows the attainment of that rank presumes?”

“Listen to your Master, you should,” Yoda agreed. “Much heartbreak, he has known. Oft tested, his vows have been.” Obi-Wan grimaced, but said nothing. His dating and sexual history wasn’t a great secret after all. He’d broken his Padawan vows and left the Order for Cerasi on Melida/Daan, and she’d died. He’d fallen in love with Siri Tachi as a Padawan, and they’d decided to become Jedi rather than lovers, irreparably harming their friendship in the process. He would have left the Order if Satine had but said the word, but again they had chosen duty. The last woman he’d loved had been Darsha Assant, and she too had died. His feelings for his male lovers had been different, but no less overwhelming. 

The sexual aspect of Obi-Wan’s relationship with Garen had faded over the years, although they had been best friends before that and remained just as close after they stopped sleeping together. There had been the all but requisite crush on his Master too, and bonus crushes on the ever-present Xanatos and Bruck as well as some of the other Knights he knew. Obi-Wan had never acted on his feelings for Qui-Gon, and thankfully they’d faded shortly. Xanatos he’d boldly propositioned, which resulted in an informative talk about the sexuality and gender spectrum and Xanatos’ asexuality. Bruck he’d thankfully figured out was only interested in human females before he said anything. He’d maintained only a no strings attached sexual relationship with Quinlan for years, but neither of them were interested in a more romantic relationship with each other, and he’d dithered for some time before making known his romantic feelings for Mace. 

Anakin snorted, as if the idea of Obi-Wan having a heart to be broken were rather ludicrous. Obi-Wan turned to his Padawan, raising his eyebrow in disbelief. Even discounting his romantic entanglements, how could Anakin so easily dismiss the long depression Obi-Wan had fallen into after Qui-Gon’s death? The pestering attentions of Xanatos and Bruck had been all that kept him fed and somewhat functional in those dark days. Obi-Wan knew his Padawan had been dealing with his own insecurities and homesickness at the time, and he’d done his best to be what Anakin needed; perhaps he’d hidden his own heartbreak better than he remembered. Even if he had, Anakin was well aware of his relationship with Mace, having nearly walked in on them at least a dozen times already.

“Excuse me?” Mace all but growled, and Obi-Wan flashed him a pleading look. He did _not_ need his lover getting over protective right now. 

“He cares more about his Darksider pets than me,” Anakin said defiantly, jutting his chin out in anticipation of an argument. 

“ _He_ can speak for himself, _thank you very much_ ,” Obi-Wan cut in primly. “If I seem cool to you my dear, it is only because I have been broken-hearted so many times, and have tried, and oft failed to keep myself from growing overly attached. This has not been kept secret, although I prefer not to speak of those I have lost. As to my _pet Darksiders_ they are Jedi of this Order, in good standing, and your disrespect is unwarranted. They are also my Grandmaster, my Padawan-brother, and his Padawan. They are the closest thing to a family I will ever know. You would have me - what? Disavow them? Repudiate them? They have overcome trials many Jedi never face. They have Fallen yes, but they have also returned to the Light. I cannot but see that as something to admire rather than denigrate.”

“An unusual sentiment,” Saesee Tiin opined from his seat, and Obi-Wan flushed slightly. 

“But commendable,” Plo Koon said firmly, nodding respectfully at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan’s flush deepened, but he politely returned the nod in appreciation. “After all, Masters Dooku and du Crion and Knight Chun have been invaluable to the Order, despite their actions against it. Perhaps even _because_ of their actions against it. Their Falls have illuminated where we must all be wary, and their returns have exemplified the strength that is within each of us, to overcome the temptation of the Dark side.”

“Well said,” Depa Billaba agreed with a smile, then turned a benevolent but disappointed look on Anakin. “You would refute that Master Kenobi places the good of yourself, the Order and moreover the Republic ahead of his own desires?” she asked. Anakin opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking rather trapped. 

“I - I know he puts me ahead of himself,” Anakin admitted. “I wouldn’t say I come first though,” he continued defiantly, thrusting his chin out once more, hands fisting at his side. 

“And you believe you should?” Adi Gallia asked, one of her brows raising in mild disbelief.

“Is the training of a Padawan not a Master’s priority?” Anakin demanded. While the question was fairly diplomatic, his tone was anything but.

“Would you prefer a different Master then?” Shaak Ti asked in her usual collected and thoughtful manner. “One who could devote more time and attention to your training?” Her delivery made many think Shaak aloof and uncaring, although that was far from the truth. In this instance, that placid delivery caused Anakin to draw up, blinking rapidly. His training bond with Obi-Wan was utterly silent, a rarity that let Anakin know just how much of a misstep he had made. The entire High Council’s attention was on him, and he hadn’t a clue what to say.

“I - that’s not what I meant,” Anakin backtracked. “I - I never said that. I just -” he trailed off, uncertain. 

“Have you felt unwanted?” Obi-Wan asked quietly. “Have I been so bad a teacher?” Had he perpetrated Qui-Gon’s worst traits, rather than his better ones? Obi-Wan wondered. Did Anakin feel as unwanted as Obi-Wan once had? Was Anakin misbehaving to garner more attention from Obi-Wan? Had Obi-Wan been neglecting his Padawan? The possibilities were more than a little daunting, and Obi-Wan had to forcibly keep himself from crumbling under his self-doubt, shunting his fears aside to be dealt with later.

Anakin shuffled in place at that. No, he’d never felt unwanted. Even when Anakin learned that he’d initially been taken as a Padawan at Qui-Gon’s order rather than by Obi-Wan’s desire, Obi-Wan had ensured Anakin knew he truly was wanted for himself, not only because Qui-Gon said so or because Anakin was supposedly the Chosen One. Obi-Wan had been a wonderful teacher and caretaker. It was everything else, Xanatos and Bruck always hanging around and the boring missions where all they did was talk and now Dooku and this stupid investigation that didn’t lead anywhere. There were so many stars out there he hadn’t seen, so many adventures to be had.

“No,” Anakin answered sullenly. “I just wanted her to think I - _we_ were important.” Obi-Wan sighed at that, looking back to the Council. He was out of ideas, frankly. Anakin was a superb Padawan in many respects, but since so many things came easily to him due to his strong connection to the Force, he wasn’t terribly patient when events didn’t arrange themselves to match his desires. 

“In want of a mission young Skywalker is, hmmmm?” Yoda observed, and Anakin flushed. “Some time assisting the ExplorCorps perhaps?”

“I’m not sure that would be the wisest assignment,” Obi-Wan cautioned, remembering his own hurt and distrust those many years ago upon being sent from the Temple. The Corps, Obi-Wan thought, was not what Anakin needed, although he wasn’t sure what the answer was, either. “Perhaps - perhaps a sabbatical? Are - are you still dreaming of your mother?”

Anakin bodily flinched, his pain and shame and fear flaring in the Force. Obi-Wan nearly swayed in place, and the Councillors all stared at Anakin in astonishment. While Obi-Wan at least had been well aware his Padawan felt things deeply, usually Anakin’s emotional control and shielding was somewhat better than _that_

“Padawan?” Mace asked almost gently, and Anakin looked at the gathered Council warily.

“I - I kept dreaming she was dying,” Anakin confessed, feeling rather trapped. His voice cracked with emotion. “I - I wasn’t sleeping so good. I - Pad - Senator Amidala suggested we go to Tatooine to see her, make sure she was okay. I - I was on Tatooine when I relayed Obi-Wan’s message, that’s how we got to Geonosis so quick; we were already nearish. I - she’d - a moisture farmer had bought her, freed her, but she was taken - taken by Tusken Raiders. I - I went after her. I - she - she died in my arms,” he choked out. “I - I was - I was just so - so _angry_ ,” he said, and an echo of his rage washed through the chamber.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes in defeat. _Fallen_ , Obi-Wan’s mind whispered. He took a deep, steadying breath and opened his eyes. He knew how to deal with Fallen. That was practically his specialty by now. His Padawan had succumbed to a lethal rage, had given in to the Dark side. Very well then. Obi-Wan would just have to pull him back into the Light, as he had Bruck, and Xanatos, and Dooku. Obi-Wan straightened his spine and pinned back his shoulders, turning to look directly at his Padawan.

“You acted in anger?” Obi-Wan asked, firm but kind. Anakin simply nodded. “You acted in fear?” Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin hesitated, then silently nodded again. “You have spoken of this to others?” Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin paused again, then again nodded. 

“P - Padme was with me,” Anakin confessed. “She said - she said it made me human; my anger, my rage at what they’d done to my mother.”

“Did it make you feel human?” Obi-Wan needled. Anakin hesitated, then shook his head. 

“I - I felt like a _god_ when I killed them,” Anakin said, his voice terribly small in the stillness of the Council chambers. “It was my will that determined who lived and who died, and for harming her - for harming her _I slaughtered them all like the animals they were_.” His voice grew as he spoke, reverberating as he finished, head raised once more. Every line of his form conveyed his belief that he had been in the right, that it was his prerogative to determine who lived and died.

“You are not a god,” Obi-Wan said sharply, and Anakin shuddered, the arrogance and defiance that had crept into his posture draining away, leaving only a very confused teenager in its wake. “You are not a god, and they were people, sentient beings. You are a Jedi. Who did your actions benefit?” Anakin didn’t answer. “Who?” Obi-Wan demanded.

“No one,” Anakin admitted truculently. “There - there was no benefit. It didn’t even make me feel better, just dirty, ashamed.”

“And the Senator?” Mace asked, and Anakin shuddered, realizing more fully what he had confessed, and where. 

“She - she’s said no more of it,” Anakin promised. 

“Would she speak of it to anyone else? Or would she maintain your confidences?” Mace pressed. 

“I - I don’t know,” Anakin admitted. “She - she was happy to go after Obi-Wan, but she’ll hardly speak to me now. I - I don’t know the reason why. She told me my anger made me human, but she - she was really angry with me when we were leaving Geonosis. I - I had told her - how much I loved her, that I was in agony for want of her.”

“Agony, love does not cause,” Yoda said primly, and Anakin flushed even more deeply, staring at the mosaiced floor beneath his feet and half wishing it would open up and drop him the hundreds of stories to ground level so he might be put out of his misery. “Obsession you speak of, attachment.” Anakin nodded mutely, not having the wherewithal to argue with the Grandmaster of the Order. “To the Dark side attachment leads,” Yoda reminded. “Know this you do. Feel it you did, when into the Force your mother passed.” Anakin hesitated, but nodded again. 

“Meditate on this we must,” Yoda said, his voice heavy with both wear and censure. “In the Temple you will stay. If seen out of Temple you are, in the cells you will be confined.” Anakin nodded meekly, glancing at his Master from beneath his lashes. Obi-Wan looked back evenly, eyes clear and without judgment. Anakin felt his eyes burn at that, and he dropped his gaze to the floor once more.

“Oh Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed, and reached up, clasping Anakin’s shoulder and pressing their foreheads together in the Mando fashion. “Why did you not say they were visions then? Dreams - dreams are but the worries of idle minds. Visions - if you were _seeing_ dear one I might have cautioned you differently. Dreams pass in time. Visions - visions merit caution.”

“Oh,” Anakin breathed, and all but collapsed on Obi-Wan, the stress of the session catching up with him. Obi-Wan gently supported Anakin until Anakin’s legs would hold him again, and then led him through the least used corridors back to their quarters. 

“I think perhaps meditation would be wise for us too,” Obi-Wan said gently, leading Anakin to their small balcony overlooking one of the lush courtyard gardens. Anakin agreed mutely, and let himself be settled on his meditation mat, then led into communion with the Force. Obi-Wan used guided meditation as he hadn’t since Anakin became a Senior Padawan years before and told him that such was ‘babyish’ for a Padawan of his level of achievement. 

As Obi-Wan’s familiar Force presence surged up to buoy his in meditation, Anakin nearly wept with relief. Meditating hadn’t felt like this, warm and soothing and _right_ in far too long. He had skipped what sessions he could, achieved only low level communion with the Force when he did meditate. But Obi-Wan’s regular practice paid off once more, and he gently set his Padawan on the path back toward the Light.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So. Anakin Fell. Now what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hi :) last chapter. it got longer than anticipated, but eh, that's how it works sometimes. thanks for reading, and as i said before, there will be some side stories and a sequel, which yes i'm obviously setting some things up for. one of the side stories is looking . . . . almost ready to begin posting, so stay tuned, subscribe to the series for updates etc. you know the drill.
> 
> also, I finally decided on a first name to use for dooku. i've seen yan and jard the most frequently, and split the difference with jan (it's pronounced the same as yan, i just don't have to move my finger to type it) because that's how i roll.

“You know this isn’t your fault, right?” Mace said quietly, settling at Obi-Wan’s side on a low bench in the back of the Halls of Healing, where the private offices were. Anakin had asked Obi-Wan to walk him down for his first appointment with the mind healer, which Obi-Wan thought was a step toward reconciliation, a tentative rapprochement of the trust that had once been implicit between them. 

A tenday had passed since the discovery of Anakin’s Fall, and Obi-Wan was well aware of the shift in the Temple. He and Anakin were pariahs once more, and Xanatos and Bruck even moreso, as they were quietly if wrongly assumed to be the bad influences leading to Anakin’s Fall. Bruck seemed to find it all rather amusing, and simply spent more time with the younglings, who were at least forthright in their questions about whether he was a Darksider or not.

“I’m well aware,” Obi-Wan said dryly, then sighed. “I _did_ blame myself at first; I’m his Master, I should have seen, should have noted - it’s an easily spiral of self doubt to fall into. But I also remember Qui-Gon when I was newly re-sworn to the Order; always watching me, waiting for me to show that I was like Xanatos, like Bruck, that I was going to Fall, to betray him, to abandon him a second time. 

“I remember also though, how many times I scolded him that Xanatos Fell through his own choices, his own decisions. Should I have seen? Perhaps. But even if I had, could I have prevented it? It’s a question that could drive a man mad, if he let himself dwell on it too deeply and too long. Even so, to wallow on that _what if?_ , to blame myself would be a level of hypocrisy of which I seem to be incapable. It - it would be arrogant me, would it not, to think I could make split-second decisions for him from half a galaxy away? 

“If anything - and perhaps it too is arrogance, perhaps Grandmaster is catching,” Obi-Wan said with a slight smile, “but if anything, his Fall says to me that I have had even less influence on his mind than I had hoped - and what I hoped, the influence my optimism perceived, was far greater than the impact, I think, the rest of the Order believes I had on him. Besides, I won’t let him go. He may be Fallen, but he’s no Sith. He can find his path back into the Light, if he’ll allow himself to be assisted.”

Obi-Wan gave a sharp nod at this conclusion, as if attempting to convince himself as much as Mace. He did believe what he had said though. His initial reaction had been shock, and then self-blame. As he had said, self doubt was an easy spiral to fall into. But it was the very ease of self blame that jarred Obi-Wan from those dark thoughts. Nothing in his life had ever been easy, and he’d be damned if he succumbed to the fallacy that Anakin’s Fall was his own fault to avoid the more difficult truth: Anakin had Fallen through his own decisions, his own lack of emotional control. Which meant that yes, Obi-Wan could have done better as his Master. But it did not make him wholly culpable.

“The past cannot be changed,” Mace said carefully. Obi-Wan nodded. It was a truth, and Obi-Wan understood that this Darkness would ever cloud Anakin, that his Padawan would be fighting to remain in the Light the rest of his days. But was that not true of every Jedi who did not Fall? Did not every Jedi alive wake each morning, dress, and declare _not today_ into the face of the Darkness that lingered at the edges of their visions and whispered temptation into their thoughts?

“No. But we can learn from it,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “And really, this is a lesson that should have been learned when Xanatos Fell. I knew sending Anakin off alone with the Senator was unwise, although the Dark came at him from an angle I doubt any of us foresaw. But we all knew that he was vulnerable to attachment, and instead of training him further, exploring other ways of elucidating the danger, we threw him into a trial by fire. I understand that learning must be experiential in some cases, but this - I believe we have well proven that attachment, and letting go of it, ought not be approached in such a manner.” He sighed tiredly. 

“I never - I never even considered his mother. It seems terribly short sighted after the fact. Another blind spot, I suppose, from being so traditionally Temple raised myself, and please don’t deny it. _None_ of us thought of her, what her fate might be. But then, how often do we think of the families who so generously grant us the training of their young? Never. Never Mace, unless it is a case like Xanatos where the family is in a position of power to _demand_ that they are remembered. Cultural practices and ties to homeworlds, yes, those we retain, but not familial attachment unless there is a strong strain of sensitivity in the family as with the Mundis and Koons.” 

Mace nodded, accepting the criticism. This too was something he treasured in their relationship. Despite the disparity in their official ranks, Obi-Wan was never afraid to privately criticize the Order in front of Mace. In public he was more circumspect, maintaining a certain professionalism in their interactions. But when it was just the two of them, or they were with Obi-Wan’s Lineage in an informal setting, he never held back in his sometimes scathing opinions. The first time Anakin, who had for so long avoided the rest of the Lineage, heard Obi-Wan scold Mace in front of them, the Padawan had been absolutely staggered. Obi-Wan and Mace both had gained a bit more of Anakin’s honest respect that day, although neither knew it.

“Did Qui-Gon ever tell you how he emancipated Anakin?” Mace asked after a while, leaning back a little, eyes on the distant horizon. 

“He didn’t have a chance really, and I’ve never asked Anakin about Tatooine. Everything I read indicated that I should let him open up about his trauma in his own time,” Obi-Wan said. Mace nodded.

“I doubt we have anything relevant to previously enslaved children though,” Mace said, and Obi-Wan huffed, shaking his head. 

“No. Abuse survivors, beings with PTSD, but nothing specific to enslavement,” Obi-Wan said.

“Qui-Gon laid the Queen’s ship as collateral on the Boonta Eve pod race,” Mace said, his tone clearly disapproving. “Instead of comming for a transfer of appropriate funds, which I admit may have been difficult and lengthened the mission, which may have been an outcome he felt unfavorable for the Naboo, he ‘made do’ as he so often did. He bet the ship on Anakin to win, with the needed hyperdrive as his prize. He made a side bet for Anakin’s freedom. He said he tried to win the mother too.”

“He - a bet?!” Obi-Wan asked incredulously. “I - I believe it, readily I believe it, and yet - oh! That man! I could shake him!” Mace chuffed softly, having oft had similar reactions to Qui-Gon’s maverick tendencies. “Did - did Anakin even understand that he was free? That I - that Qui-Gon hadn’t purchased him? That I didn’t - that I didn’t inherit him?” Mace shrugged at that, unable to answer. For a few moments, Obi-Wan fumed silently, then took a deep breath and controlled it. He would find out. He would make sure Anakin understood. “I hope you didn’t come down here just to talk about Anakin,” Obi-Wan said after a while, the silence stretching between them.

“No, I’m Anu’s next appointment,” Mace said with a wry smile. “There’s a reason I recommended xyr for Anakin.”

“Well, hopefully he finds xyr as helpful as you do,” Obi-Wan said. “I promised him late meal with just the two of us tonight, he seems to be finding joint meditations helpful.”

“The strength of your heart can work miracles,” Mace said, and kissed Obi-Wan’s temple. Obi-Wan flushed, and twined his fingers with Mace’s between them on the bench. They waited the remainder of the time in silence, just enjoying the quiet togetherness. Anakin rolled his eyes at them in fond exasperation when he came out of the mind healers office, and Mace rose, kissing the back of Obi-Wan’s hand, than thumping Anakin solidly on the shoulder. Anakin half turned to watch him enter the office in surprise. 

“Master?” Anakin asked.

“You - you don’t have to call me that, you know,” Obi-Wan said quietly, and rose, offering Anakin his hand. Anakin accepted, tucking Obi-Wan’s hand into the crook of his elbow. Obi-Wan led the way to a quiet, little used courtyard full of shrubs covered in fragrant white blossoms. The scent was almost overwhelming, and vaguely soporific. The humidity was set high, the air thick with moisture. Obi-Wan settled on a bench, and patted the space next to him. 

“I don’t understand,” Anakin admitted as he sat, angling his body attentively toward Obi-Wan in way Obi-Wan was just beginning to realize he had missed. How long since they talked face to face, rather than to the backs or sides of one anothers heads? Obi-Wan angled himself toward Anakin as well, taking his Padawan's hands gently but loosely, so Anakin could pull away if he desired, but so he also had that silent support and expression of Obi-Wan's unwavering affection. “You are a Jedi Master.”

“And you were enslaved,” Obi-Wan said gently, squeezing Anakin's fingers for emphasis. “It is a loaded term for you, which I should have realized long before now.”

“I - I knew - I understood that you - you weren’t like Gardulla or Watto,” Anakin said haltingly, hands shifting slightly, but remaining linked with Obi-Wan's. 

“Did you my dear?” Obi-Wan asked seriously, reaching up to gently cup Anakin's cheek for a moment and hold Anakin's gaze with his own. “Did you truly understand that Qui-Gon was freeing you? That he wasn’t another Master? That you weren’t a possession he’d laid claim to and then passed on to me?”

“I - yes. Maybe not then, but I do - I understand I’m free,” Anakin said. Obi-Wan looked at him appraisingly for a long moment, then nodded. 

“You don’t have to call me Master,” Obi-Wan reiterated. “Too little too late perhaps. But you have a hard road to travel. There’s no point making it more difficult over formalities.” Anakin nodded hesitantly. 

“I’ll think on it,” Anakin promised. 

“Good. Now, would you like to meditate here or in our quarters?”

“Uh - quarters. It’s - sticky in here,” Anakin said, wrinkling his nose. Obi-Wan nodded, wisely not commenting. Anakin might despise sand, but he didn’t deal well in moist environments either, perpetually a child of the desert. Obi-Wan was curious how he’d respond to a waterworld like Mon Cala.

That night Obi-Wan cooked, and they ate together quietly, neither quite sure what to talk about. So many topics had the potential to become a minefield. Finally though, they settled on Anakin’s reactions to Healer Anu, and what he planned to do in his down time now that he was completely restricted to the Temple. Anu had suggested Anakin make himself available to the creche masters, horticulturists, mechanics and other Temple support staff, but especially the creche masters and youngling instructors. Younglings, Anu had said, judged clearly and without prejudice. Xe thought their unfeigned enthusiasm on meeting older Jedi would do Anakin good, especially as Anakin had never lived in the creche himself, and they would gladly teach him all the formative little games and tricks of Jedi younglings that Knights and Masters had half forgotten.

For the next weeks, Anakin saw Healer Anu daily, and meditated daily with Obi-Wan. The Lineage ate together more frequently, although Yoda was more and more reticent as the days passed, and Dooku and Xanatos were often gone to Kamino. Every time they returned though, they had some new story about the clone troopers, who they clearly cared deeply about, or some new suggestion to help the clones. Between all the digging Obi-Wan did on Coruscant during that time, and the detailed reports sent by the Naboo on the mysterious ship they’d recovered, Obi-Wan was able to piece together hints of Maul’s actions before the Trade Federation blockade. Anakin helped there too, although it was largely the sort of work he found tedious; data mining and re-running the false positives returned from hours upon hours of security footage by the facial recognition program. 

A series of killings around the same time Darsha and Master Bondara had been killed were likely Maul’s work, although there was no definitive evidence, no telltale lightsaber scores or forensic trail. But there was still a pattern, the dead all linked to certain criminal syndicates. Still, a pattern wasn’t really evidence, and evidence, incontrovertible evidence, was what they needed, something linking Maul to the being who commanded him, the Sith Lord scheming behind the scenes.

Finally though, Obi-Wan’s leads petered out after months of research and investigating. He had substantial corroborating evidence on Maul, but nothing leading directly to another Sith, save some vague communiques. There was a missing droid, a string of murders, and whispers of a Sith holocron. It was a serendipitous visit to Dex that eventually gave Obi-Wan his next clue; the name of a planet.

“Dathomir, hmmmm?” Yoda said thoughtfully when Obi-Wan brought his findings to the High Council. “Many years it has been, since heard this name I have. A Dark planet, hmmm? Dangerous for Jedi. A place to die, for Jedi,” The Council waited silently for Yoda to continue. “Lost there, the Order did, a praxeum ship and many lives. But return the Jedi would, I promised. Our legacy Dathomir is. Our shame. Exiles of the Order, the first Witches of Dathomir were. Dark, their paths were, but returned to the Light the first witch did. More Light they will need now, to stop the Darkness of the witches forever.” 

Obi-Wan blinked, letting that settle. He had only wanted to trace Maul’s origins. But a trip to Dex’s had returned the term Nightbrother, and that in turn lead to Dathomir. Trips to see Dex were hazardous to his health, Obi-Wan decided. Every time he went in recently he ended up on some strange new adventure to a place of which he'd previously never heard.

“Council level authorization you will need,” Yoda said. Obi-Wan dipped his head in surprised acceptance. Such a level of access was all but unprecedented. It meant the planet was not only dangerous, it was restricted, a place Jedi were forbidden from traveling. Whose embargo would he be breaking, Obi-Wan wondered, the Jedi or these witches?

“And my Padawan?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin was still on Temple restriction, and the rest of the Lineage was keeping a very close eye on him when they were between missions. His visits to the mind healers seemed to help, but he would need a lot of support for a long time to come to ameliorate the Darkness that had festered in him. Meditating with Obi-Wan aided his recovery too, and Obi-Wan ensured they meditated together at least an hour a day. But neither was a cure. The Councillors traded long looks, the Force humming with their silent communication. 

“Attached to you, he is,” Yoda said, and Obi-Wan nodded.

“And I to him,” Obi-Wan admitted freely. It was certainly no secret. Yoda nodded in return. 

“Patience he must learn,” Yoda declared. “With you he will go. Perhaps in others, his own hesitations he will recognize.” Obi-Wan bowed, accepting the task. There wasn’t much else to say before he was dismissed. Exiting the chamber, Obi-Wan checked his comm, and saw that the archives access codes had already been forwarded to him and Anakin. Mentally arranging the rest of his day, Obi-Wan set out for the library to start researching Dathomir.

A few hours later, Obi-Wan’s comm vibrated in his belt pouch. He pulled it free, and smiled softly. It seemed word had spread to the Lineage. Xanatos wanted a spar, which was brother-Padawan code for wanting to ensure Obi-Wan was up to snuff before letting him out of the Temple. Obi-Wan didn’t mind in truth; Xanatos had become an excellent swordsman over the years, although perhaps not so skilled as their Grandmaster, or Grandmaster’s Master. Still, he always offered Obi-Wan a good match in the salle.

Heading to the commissary, Obi-Wan had a quick mid-meal, then read a while longer on Dathomir and the ancient mission of which Master Yoda had spoken. As he had mentioned, the Order had lost a praxeum ship over Dathomir, the _Chu’unthor_. The native witches had refused to let the Jedi salvage the ship when a rescue operation was mounted, although they had allowed the few survivors of the crash to evacuate. Yoda, according to his report, had saved the life of one of the witches, and she had agreed to hide away the information contained in the ship’s archives until a Jedi returned and defeated the Dark-side worshiping Nightsister clan. 

Was this then his secondary mission? Obi-Wan wondered. The few other records mentioning Nightsisters described a race of human-Zabrak hybrids who partook in Darkside rituals that sounded a great deal like Sith alchemy. They would be a dangerous clan to face. The subjugated clan they called Nightbrothers though - that sounded like a possibility. If it was the same Nightbrothers from whom Maul was descended, this might really be the right place. And he would look up Rell of the Singing Mountain Clan while they were on planet, to see if the time was right to overthrow the Nightsisters and reclaim the Jedi archives from the _Chu’unthor_. 

Obi-Wan’s comm buzzed an alert, and he secured his research, then headed back to quarters. Dropping off his materials, he checked his cold-store, then headed for the salles. Xanatos and Bruck were waiting on him, Xanatos as cool and refined as ever, Bruck with a broad, shit eating grin. Obi-Wan gave his brothers a mocking bow in greeting, and they saluted in return. Without bothering to settle into a ready stance, Obi-Wan vaulted forward in an Ataru attack, and battle was joined.

Xanatos parried with Makashi, Dooku’s influence coming through. Bruck was almost wholly using Shien, and so Obi-Wan settled back into Soresu, deflecting both of their attacks ably. The three of them danced on, increasing their speed motion by motion until Obi-Wan’s blade was a whorl of azure flame, Xanatos’ a streak of golden-green, and Bruck a flash of livid blue-violet. Bruck was the first to bow out, collapsing to the side to nurse the sting in his arm and the stitch in his side. Eventually, Xanatos and Obi-Wan fought to a draw, and bowed to one another politely. 

“Well fought,” Dooku’s deep voice came from the gathered onlookers, and Obi-Wan and Xanatos turned and bowed to their Grandmaster in unison. “It has been some time since I faced you myself little one,” he addressed Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan sucked in a deep breath, pushing his wear into the Force as he dipped his head and settled into the Soresu ready position, then crooked his fingers in invitation. Dooku chuckled, and rather imperiously held out his hand to Xanatos. 

Their Grandmaster still wasn’t permitted his own ‘saber, but use of Xanatos’ weapon was the price of Xanatos’ instruction in Makashi. Not that Xanatos minded - sharing a ‘saber was an incredible statement of trust and expression of intimacy. For most Jedi, only a dedicated lover would be accorded that right, but the amity of Xanatos’ relationship with Dooku fit that criterion, even if it wasn’t a sexual union. Xanatos floated his ‘saber over, and it settled into Dooku’s grip as if made for him, futer evidence, perhaps, of their willing partnership. A low hum, and the green-gold blade sprang to life. For a long moment, the bystanders held their breath; few if any had seen Dooku armed before, his lessons with Xanatos usually taking the form of open handed exercises rather than blade training.

Obi-Wan grinned, gesturing again with his extended hand and inviting his grandmaster’s attack. Dooku shook his head with a slight smile, but obliged, moving so quickly he was only perceptible to the eye as a streak of golden light as he lunged forward. Obi-Wan settled into the Force and danced. Their blades hummed and crashed, catching and deflecting as they sparred. The crowd grew larger and larger the longer they fought. Obi-Wan’s training sessions were always a draw, his ability to stand his ground legendary in the Temple. To see him lock blades with a former Sith, a legendary Master of Makashi was even better. Finally they drew, Obi-Wan’s blade high against Dooku’s neck, Dooku’s borrowed blade lower, the point lodged beneath Obi-Wan’s sternum.

“Solah,” both men said in unison, and gracefully disengaged, their blades sweeping into respectful salutes as they bowed, bringing the session to a close. Dooku reached out then, and pulled Obi-Wan into a gentle hug, resting their foreheads together.

“I’ll be careful,” Obi-Wan promised gently, feeling his Grandmaster’s worry. Dathomir would be no easy mission, but it was imperative they gather whatever evidence they could to identify and take down Sidious. Dooku let out a low hum that indicated a vague disbelief, and Obi-Wan smiled, nudging his face up against Dooku’s and kissing his whiskered cheek. “I will,” Obi-Wan said firmly.

“And yet trouble will still find you,” Dooku said gently, and kissed Obi-Wan’s head. “Master is feeding us tonight.” Obi-Wan huffed a laugh, but didn’t argue. Yoda wasn’t an atrocious cook, but he also had a questionable grasp on what was palatable for humans. 

“Is Mace joining us?” Obi-Wan asked as they parted, heading for the lockers. 

“Yes, he’s invited your boyfriend,” Dooku teased with false disapproval. If anything, Obi-Wan knew, Dooku was his and Mace’s best advocate. They got along quite well despite disagreeing about nearly everything. As such, Obi-Wan merely shot his Grandmaster a bemused look and then went about cleaning up. He was mostly dressed again when Mace ambled into the locker room, and Dooku sniffed superciliously and swanned off. 

“Your Grandmaster is a meddling barve,” Mace said as if reporting the weather, and when Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow in hope of clarification _(because yes, he was well aware his Grandmaster was a meddling barve, but how was that relevant now?)_ Mace just tugged Obi-Wan in for a slow, heated kiss. 

“Mmmm, that’s nice,” Obi-Wan murmured, pressing light kisses against Mace’s mouth. “I can’t stay with you tonight,” he warned. “He’s not the only one with a mission in the morning.”

“I’m well aware,” Mace replied. “Please be careful.”

“I _am_ careful,” Obi-Wan huffed, pulling away to finish dressing. “I don’t know why all of you insist on treating me like I’m still a Padawan.”

“Because we love you,” Mace growled, and pulled him in for another deep kiss. Obi-Wan melted against his lover, unable to argue that. “Now let’s go to Yoda’s, before Jan tells everyone we’ve eloped or something.” Obi-Wan snorted, but nodded, then paused, looking up at his lover. 

“Grandmaster lets you call him Jan?” Obi-Wan asked in surprise. “Even Master Yoda doesn’t call him by his given name.”

“He said I could, and I think Yoda _would_ , except he enjoys far too much reminding a grown ass man that he took care of and taught him when he was a snotty little brat of a Padawan,” Mace said with a grin as he led them toward the residential area of the Temple. “It’s good for both of them.” Obi-Wan laughed softly, conceding the point. “I think du Crion calls him Jan as well.”

“Yes well, I’m pretty sure they’re dating since they got back from Kamino the first time,” Obi-Wan said with a smile. “It’s terribly cute. They sit and drink tea and talk about opera and planetary governance.”

“Huh,” Mace said thoughtfully, re-analyzing witnessed interactions. “I thought du Crion wasn’t interested in that.”

“He’s not interested in sex, I don’t think Grandmaster is either,” Obi-Wan said with a shrug. “I’ve never really had that conversation with Grandmaster, which has probably saved me from terminal embarrassment.” Mace chuckled softly at that. “It was bad enough when Xanatos explained it all to me as a teenager when I had a crush on him.” 

Mace shook his head at that, but left it be. Obi-Wan smiled, reaching up to gently squeeze Mace’s bicep. Mace smiled down at Obi-Wan, and mentally thanked the Force once more for bringing them together like this. Mace leaned down and stole a kiss, and was still smiling when they reached Yoda’s quarters. Obi-Wan might be entangled in a Sith plot, about to leave on a dangerous mission, and trying to anchor a Fallen Padawan to the Light, but for the moment he was safe and warm and brilliant in the Force at Mace’s side, smiling and content.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to come flail with me [on tumblr](https://wrennette.tumblr.com)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [In the Council room...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11665962) by [Gabriel4Sam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriel4Sam/pseuds/Gabriel4Sam)




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